Elven Homecomings
by Arelite
Summary: There is a new threat emerging as ancient kin return home to a land set free. How twisted is this old enemy and what differences exist? Legolas and Aragorn must get to the bottom of it to restore order.
1. First Meetings

A/N: The original story, Shadowed Exiles, was deleted months ago. This means that Chapter One is a repost and Chapter Two, posted in conjunction straight after, contains the new material. If you've already read the first part you might like to go straight to chap two. Anonymous reviews are welcomed.

* * *

**Elven Homecomings**

**Chapter One - First Meetings**

There was something uncomfortable about the way she was positioned and, only half awake, she tried to figure out what it was. Her body did not feel right and something tickled furiously at her wrists. Fuzzy and annoying. She tried to move position but could not. The pleasant dream she was having began to fade out as she realised her face felt so hot, too hot, and she wondered briefly where she was. She yanked her arms in annoyance before realising they were held in place. Her eyes slowly and unwillingly opened, banishing the last of her dream, and her entire body groaned in a kind of unfamiliar pain as she swivelled and twisted. She was tied up! Her aching arms and sore wrists were pinning her unceremoniously to the trunk of a tree, and as she tried to swallow in reaction and alarm, her throat told her of it's burning thirst. Her whole self felt wretched, and sun mercilessly beat down upon her unprotected skin. She struggled at first, almost involuntarily, but to no avail. She remembered how she must have wound up here. She remembered the trolls.

Her first thoughts went to the small group of people she had been travelling cross-country with. Were they all right? Since the war in Middle Earth had been over for a year now, many had become bold, and roads between hamlets had begun to open again as the threat of violence had decreased.

Annabelle and some others had thought it okay to travel through their own country. Had it not been a year since the orcs, afraid and beaten in the war, once again masterless, had fled the land, leaving it free for the race of man to go about their business. Apparently all was not as safe as many would believe. Some foul threat still lingered in the once tranquil land of Goldacres, and one thing she knew for sure, trolls were still abroad.

In a world where many learned the art of combat, with sword and knife, Annabelle was as helpless as a newborn kitten. She had no need of fighting and no interest in it. She had always been protected by her many brothers. Although mainly farmers of the land, they knew enough of combat and could protect themselves when needed. With a sinking feeling, Annabelle realised she did not even carry a knife, not even a small one. Suddenly she felt foolish, travelling across the countryside without even the protection of her family, on an errand to visit relatives, as though all were sunny again in the world, and over every hill were candy vendors waiting to hand out sweets! Sweat trickled down her face, bringing her back to the present. She did not clearly know what it was that trolls did to their victims. Did they eat them? Or would they take her to present to some greater evil yet? She could not guess.

She began to tremble as it sunk in that she was all alone. She tried to look around her to take in her surrounds. She was tied to a tree, and not far from it was the remains of a fire, and broken blackened wood lay scattered there as though some giant foot had kicked the fire over, stamping it out in haste.

Large boulders, two of them, were at the edge of the sooty earth. Drag marks behind them showed that they had been recently pulled across the earth, but these rocks were huge! What they must have weighed she didn't know. Her breath quickened in alarm as her eyes gazed at the stones, moved so effortlessly. Her mind tried to remember what had happened to her, to her party, but for some reason it made her break out in a sweat. There would be time enough for that later. Right now she had to free herself, or end up as a main course with the setting of the sun. She began to struggle vainly, but she was tied tight. Fear began to kick in. She did not know what she could do.

A few timeless minutes passed, just enough for her to overdose on building fear and let despair creep in like a thief in the night. She could hear an approach so clumsy through the dry underbush, that it could only be her captors. They were getting closer and she could only begin to flinch in sorry anticipation of her doom, cowering like the helpless maiden that she was.

The tops of their heads became visible above some tall trees, for these beasts were over ten feet tall. Like a pathetic insect she began to struggle uselessly against her binds, the pain of her wrists momentarily ignored as the thumping giants neared and tears began to find their way out of the sides of her eyes. Furious that her fate would end like this, she stopped struggling as the trolls rounded the last of the trees, entering the clearing, and she thought that this was what it felt like to prepare inwardly to die. Numbly she saw that they had blades tied to their belts. She squeezed her eyes shut as the stinking beasts looked upon her and smiled goofily, but eagerly nonetheless. Trolls were not smart, but what they lacked in brains they made up for in brawn.

"Ahh, the waif awakes," one of them spoke, the nearer and uglier of them. Bits of drool hung on its lips, which it now turned into a mean smile. "Pretty aren't we? And young. Weren't you foolish to be wandering around these lands as though you owned them, eh?"

The second troll caught up and stood with its friend. Its nostrils flared as though it were taking her scent.

Annabelle could not even swallow at this point, although her throat moved convulsively, and she knew that she could not even speak to defend herself or give dignity to her last moments. She prayed they would not toy with her but make it fast. Her eyes were mostly closed.

The nearer of the trolls reached out with its meaty hand, its palm easily as big as her entire head, and she shivered in disgust. But it did not get far. Just then a whistling through the air, which she felt gently as a stirring of air against her face, alerted her to a change. There was a small, dull thud, then another, then another.

At first she had thought that this was the sound of arrows through the air, but there were so many of them in such quick succession that it would take at least five, or more, archers to produce this, and she knew there was not cover for that many. Besides, who was there out here to defend a poor maiden, clearly off the road and out of any reach of safety?

Peeking open one eye to look, she saw in wonder the first troll, followed by the second, fall forward onto the earth, each with at least seven arrows protruding from their backs and neck. This was a miracle, and were it not for the rope holding her upright, she would have fallen on top of the giant bodies before her in pure relief and exhaustion. Instead, she merely sagged heavily, moaning slightly as the rope dug deeper into raw wrists, and nearly passed-out.

Out of the trees stepped one archer then, not five, not ten, only the one tall, slight figure dressed in green leggings and brown tunic. Long blonde hair flowed freely around his pale face and strong shoulders, and a travel cape was thrown carelessly back over his shoulders to reveal the arrows slung on his back. The bow he dropped unnoticed on the ground as he hastened over to the tied maiden, whose head had lulled forward, and low moans were all that she muttered.

"Are you okay?" he asked of her quickly. His hand came up to check her pulse, and satisfied that it was strong, he quickly reached up to her bound hands, knife coming from out of his sheath. He cut the ropes then, gently lowering the girl into his arms and carrying her a small way away from the fallen trolls and their stench.

He noted that she was human, and he wondered briefly where her companions could be. Had they abandoned her when the trolls attacked, he wondered. He had spied the trolls seemingly following a trail along the main road, and then seen them give up and head into the brush. Curious by this odd behaviour, he had surreptitiously followed, and how glad he was that he did. This poor human girl would be dead by now if he did not. She stirred beneath him on the ground. Ah good, she was coming to.

"Would you like some water?" he asked anxiously, holding his waterskin ready for her to quench her thirst.

Her dark blonde head reached up and she took a sip from the skin, and very slowly swallowed, wincing as though it were painful, then she tried to lie down again, as if she just wanted to go to sleep, which she probably did.

"No," the elf protested softly. "Can you walk? Or shall I carry you, for we must away from here this moment." He pointed elegantly at the trolls to make his point. Who knew if there were more of the rotten beasts around.

Her eyes fluttered open, liquid blue eyes, and she stared without comprehension into his own blue eyes. "Wha..?" She said. "Mm. Water. Please." She took another sip and rested back again to gaze at him.

Who was he, and more importantly, was he safe?

He looked a whole lot better than the trolls, but who knew what danger she might still be in. He had such a queer look to him, otherworldly almost, and the expression on his face was one she couldn't immediately recognise.

He nodded to himself then, and frowned slightly. She spoke the language of men, but not the Standard Tongue. He could speak elvish, dwarvish and some bits of orcish, and of course the Standard Tongue of the men, but her dialogue was unfamiliar to him. This would make things a lot harder if he had to get her home again, or into some kind of safety. And he didn't particularly wish to be slowed down either. The girl seemed to catch his troubled expression and asked him no doubt what was wrong.

"Do you not speak elvish, my lady?" he asked.

She took longer to realise what was going on. She kept speaking her tongue, regardless. Patiently he waited for the penny to drop.

Fear began to show again on the young woman's face as she realised they couldn't communicate properly. "Why do you not understand me?" she asked shakily.

What man did not speak her own language, unless it be someone from the other end of the earth, some heathen perhaps, or a new enemy looking to conquer this land in these uncertain times. She began to cringe away from him again, the waterskin forgotten.

Sighing to himself, the elf leaned forward and moved his blonde hair away from his ears, revealing their pointy tips, and he smiled kindly.

"I am of the elven, my lady, and that is why you cannot understand me. Let me introduce myself, I am _Legolas_ of Mirkwood, at your service." Pointing to himself he repeated "Legolas" and smiled encouragingly.

But rather than make her comforted, she seemed to grow more alarmed. What was this man with the pointy ears, was it some kind of deformity? What did any of this mean? Suddenly, she felt irresistibly tired. Once today she had already prepared herself to die, she supposed if this Legolas was going to kill her, or spirit her away to a fate of harsh slavery, he had better get on with it then or let her rest, because she just didn't care any more.

Closing her eyes, she tried to show him she wanted to look at him no more. He whispered some things, but she was unwilling to cooperate, or try to fathom what it was he wanted. She couldn't help him anyway. Better he just leave her here to die. Since she was already half-dead, to her melodramatic way of reasoning, it wouldn't take all that long then would it? He could just go if he wanted, she didn't care.

The young elf was slightly vexed by this problem. The girl needed some medical attention but was unwilling to show him what she needed. Her wrists needed attending to, but was she injured anywhere else? Since there was no blood evident, he supposed she would live. But what to do with her, he wondered.

He doubted he would move her far this day. Perhaps on the morrow she would be alert enough to show him whether north or south along the road she had travelled from. He supposed it was his duty to return her to her own kind, before he must away again on his own errand. It was a bit of a nuisance, all of this, but regardless he set about getting ready to clean and bind her wounds, taking out a small jar of ointment, and knew that they would have to camp in or close to this clearing, at least for now. The poor girl seemed too afraid to cooperate, and in that state he knew there was not much he could do for her until she came to her senses.

* * *

When Annabelle woke up in the early evening, it took her a minute before all of the days events came rushing back to her. She still could not remember the original troll attack on her party. Luckily there was no one whom she knew personally, they were merely travelling in numbers for the sake of safety. So much for that. It seemed the rest of them escaped all except for her. Luckily that strange man had come along to save her. 

Propping herself up on her elbow, she saw that she was in a newly made camp, without fire, but at least there were no trolls here, and no reminder of her trauma.

The Legolas person was sitting with his back facing her, whittling at something, and did not see her awaken.

He was not really like any other man she had ever known. Firstly, and most notably, he wasn't hairy. Most men she knew sported facial hair, sometimes a lot of it, but fair he was, there seemed no hint. And there was something else almost inhuman about him, an elegance and grace that usually belonged solely to the fairer sex. Of course there were those strange ears of his. She didn't know why he had shown them to her or what they were supposed to explain. Some creatures she knew did have pointed ears, like sprites, but a fully grown man….if man he was! She began to wonder, yet knowing at the same time it was impossible! Unless he was a mythical "elven", but everyone knew those were just fairly tales, the legend of the elves. Had she somehow wandered into an enchanted part of the land, trapped, never to return to the real world?

A more sensible part of her brain realised that she hadn't introduced herself to him yet. She noticed that he had set her wrist wounds to right with bandages, and of this she was very grateful. She had not expected such kindness all of a sudden out here in the wild. She cleared her throat delicately to catch his attention, and when he turned, she pointed to herself.

"Annabelle. I am _Annabelle_. Pleased to meet you and… thank you for saving my life."

He quietly watched her and then smiled. "Annabelle?" he repeated softly. "That is a nice name. In elvish, we have a name like that, it is Aniel."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Can I call you _Aniel_?" he asked.

She kind of shrugged and smiled. He supposed that would mean yes.

It seemed a shame that they could not communicate on a basic level. Maybe this Annabelle could teach him a little of her unique dialogue so that they could communicate better, even if it was just for one or two days. He was a very fast learner. But he did not want to push her in any way, unsure was he of her reaction to anything he might do.

And she did still seem afraid of him, he could see a trace of it in her eyes, in her manner, everything about her screamed confusion. He supposed she was a country girl, a human who was unwise and untrained about things in the wider world. This was very different from where Legolas, a battle-hardened warrior, and major player in the destruction of the One Ring, was coming from. Legolas was Prince of Mirkwood, Son of Thandruil, tutored in the ways of royalty and leadership. He thought that they would probably have very little in common. He wanted to put her mind at rest so that she would not make things more difficult than need be. But how to make her trust him, that was the challenge.

He decided it would be best not to leave the girl alone in the camp, considering her state of mind, so he decided not to hunt for dinner that evening, like he usually did when travelling. Instead, he took his sack and brought out a package wrapped in leaves. Lembas, the elvish bread; he had plenty enough for both of them, and enough water too. This would have to all change by the next day, though, because Legolas was not out roving the countryside for kicks. He had an important task to complete, and he was not going to be slowed down. He knew he would have to find this girl's home, or others of her kind, or else she would have to travel with him. Unwrapping the leaves, he took out a thin slice of the bread and tried to catch Annabelle's attention so he could pass it to her. She was sitting with her knees propped up and her chin resting on them, her eyes very distant and slightly unfocussed.

"Aniel," he called to her softly. "Look, I have some food for you. Are you hungry?"

At first she did not respond, but after he waved the bread about for a bit, she seemed to notice the movement and finally her eyes turned in his direction and recognition lighted them.

Legolas made a motion as if he were eating the bread, and then rubbed his stomach. He tried to pass it to her again.

"For me?" Annabelle uttered.

She reached over the small distance between them and took the Lembas and began nibbling on it. No doubt she had never tasted elven fare before, but she didn't comment or even seem to notice what it was she consumed. Her eyes had taken on the distant cast again and she stared ahead of her somewhere in the middle distance. Legolas only sighed and took out some bread of his own and began to chew.

He knew he would be able to get her home again and all would be all right in the end. He would just have to wait for tomorrow to make it right. He set about making sure his steed Arod was watered and taken care of, and then they settled in for a night together. Annabelle fell asleep on top of Legolas' own bedroll, and he sat and stared for a long time into the darkness, listening to the telltale noises of the night, pondering what best action he could make on the next day.

The next day Legolas awoke early, as is the manner of elves, and not long after, Annabelle stirred and opened her eyes.

She seemed to remember immediately where she was and with whom. The two travellers smiled to each other haltingly as a greeting, and the girl seemed to understand that they would need to get moving immediately. After consuming some more _lembas_, Legolas led her and Arod away from their makeshift camp and back up the rise towards the road that Annabelle had undoubtably been travelling on at the time her party had been waylaid.

When he reached the road, he looked at her expectantly. Pointing one way he said "east" and the other he showed was "west". He watched her but her face remained blank. Catching her attention he made an exaggerated shrug and pointed down both paths. He looked pointedly at her.

A little downcast that she could not provide what he wanted to know, Annabelle shrugged back. Her brow creased with concentration as she gazed both ways, looking for signs in her mind, some kind of memory of which way she had travelled, but she was lost.

Legolas was nonplussed. He just watched her, not knowing what to do next. Maybe he was too hasty when he killed the trolls the day before. Questioning them would have come in more than a little handy after all.

Sitting down on the road, head in his hands, he tried to work out what to do. He wished he had Aragorn with him, or one of his other party. They were all human and would know more about this land than he, and know how to communicate with her, how to help her.

Legolas glanced east, the direction she probably had travelled from. It was just no good. He had already been that way for several days on his survey, and he had not encountered any settlements. He did not particularly wish to retrace his steps again, especially when he could not be sure. He just did not have the time. He decided that the girl would just have to come with him for a while until he could reach a settlement westwards, like Wickerwood for example, where he could drop her off with others who could actually help her. He had saved her life after all, and he felt that his responsibility to her did not extend much past that.

Getting up again, he passed by Annabelle and hoisted himself lightly upon Arod's sturdy back. Reaching an arm out to her, he then helped lift her onto the steed behind him. Then they took off west at a hurried, though not too speedy, pace. Legolas was slightly surprised that Annabelle did not seem to mind, did not question where they were going, did not resist, but nor did she show any kind of cooperation either. She just did what he asked. It was almost like she did not care. He wondered about that briefly, but then was again thinking ahead to the report he would make to the rest of his team when he got back to base camp, and wondering too what news of the land they had to give in return.

* * *

For several days the weather remained fine, and Legolas, in the company of Annabelle, travelled westwards, towards the Bay of Belfalas, far south in Gondor, south in fact of Mordor where the great darkness had been defeated. Though not so far as to be in the unknown lands of Far Harad. 

Legolas contemplated how man was spreading throughout Middle Earth in a way that elves never did. Whilst elven folk preferred wooded land, preferring the safety and beauty of trees, within which they would build their flets, man could and did settle anywhere. And even though men did not live for very many years comparatively speaking, still they procreated in a way the elves, who were immortal, never could.

Legolas felt it was of no surprise at all the number of new townships that were springing up in lands hardly even detailed upon the maps in the halls of learning. Such maps of these lands were never terribly detailed because no one lived here, not hobbit, not dwarf, not orc nor wizard. But man, the intrepid explorer, the desirer of everything new, went where he pleased and, he settled.

He did not care if his town was outlined on an old, dusty map in the halls of Rivendell, or whether it was sung about in the ballads of old. He merely searched for a place to stake as his, one where crops would grow, the sun shine, and children play and grow. And this is just what he had been doing, even as Sauron's evil eye had cast itself north and west. Had Sauron ever looked south? Had he cared? There were no armies in the southern most part of Gondor, so there was no need to ever conquer this barren place. But it was useful to know what did dwell here.

This was the task that Legolas was a part of, gathering information on the lay of the land, the way that the great War had changed it, altering who lived there and what they did. Perhaps, Legolas surmised, this area was the least touched of all of Middle Earth, well that and also The Shire, which was furthermost from Mordor as you could get and still be on the map itself.

It was irritating to him that he did not know where many of these little populations had sprung up over the years, and that he had possibly missed one, probably several, on his quick journey here. It was known that people this far south did speak a different dialect, so that was no great surprise, however the people of Wickerwood, the township where they were headed, spoke the Standard Tongue in order to trade with the rest of Gondor. He would need to question them when he was there to find out about the other settlements further south, and to get a map of them! He did not think that Aniel could draw him one if he asked. If nothing else, at least he had learned that there was a surprising amount of life taking place here, trolls included, and that more surveying would be needed to record exactly what was here.

Taking the Harad Road west, or an extension of it, they travelled for three days. Annabelle was mostly silent, and fearful to begin with. She had a feeling that they were travelling further and further away from the heartland that was her only known home. She had taken to glancing fearfully over her left shoulder as they rode, wondering sometimes if she was being kidnapped, if she would ever return to anything familiar, and what would generally become of her.

It was not that she was leaving behind a fulfilling life at home though, or even a young man to whom she was attached. There had been none of that back at Goldacres. That was one of the main reasons in the first place that she had desired the freedom and the unknown of travelling to Breezebrook, where her relatives lived, to stay with them for a while.

The truth was, she was lonely back at the home of her birth. The town was only so large, and there were only so many eligible men who lived there. Her four brothers were married and had farms of their own, and her parents were well equipped to look after themselves, leaving her feeling like a third wheel at home. She desired change. She had longed for new surroundings and new people, and something else she could not even name. Now she felt like she had gained some of those things, but at the price of not knowing if she was safe or what her future would be. It was almost all occurring to her as if in a dream. She was not taking it all in very well.

The ride behind Legolas on his fine horse was pleasant, and somehow even comforting. But her mind was far from at ease, and she did not know what existed within the lands they were now traversing, because she was sure they had left behind her province altogether. All of this caused her to act a tad fearful, suspicious and jumpy. She did not know what to make of this elf-man either, if indeed that was what he was. She tried to remember the stories she had been told of elves when she was a child. This is what she knew:

Elves were immortal beings of sensitised natures in all ways. Their hearing was so keen they could hear a small branch fall a league away. Their eyesight so brilliant that they could watch the eagles soar at heights where no other could discern a living thing. Their stamina meant they could toil well past the time an ordinary man would be exhausted. Elves did not even sweat. They could withstand the elements so much longer than man. Their strength, even though their forms be lithe and slim, was beyond what many men possessed. Their fierceness in battle was unrivalled. And the list simply went on and on.

Perhaps most significant of all, they were supposed to be immortal, living for thousands of years and more. It was more than once that Annabelle pondered on this as she sat behind Legolas watching the countryside slide by. As the days went on, more and more little facts about elves began to come back to her, and in some strange way, this began to revive her a bit and draw her back out of the frightened cocoon she had begun to weave around herself since the shock of the trolls. She was beginning to come alive again, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Legolas.

It was just little things, like the way her eyes moved around and focussed on objects, the way she began to anticipate what he would be doing to set up the camp at night and if not help out, then not hinder either. She mostly avoided looking directly at him, for what reason he did not know, but she was a little less afraid of him each day as she realised that his thoughtfulness could be genuine. She was by no way ready to trust him, after all, he was not even of her own race, but she thought he was trying to help her and she began to become interested in where they were going.

* * *

On the forth night when they camped, Legolas was looking more cheerful than he had the entire time so far. Around the campfire that night, he gestured distantly in the direction of the sea, and he drew little figures in the sand for her to peruse, odd little people of who she couldn't guess their identity. Significantly, instead of drawing bows, he gave these figures swords, which were the fighting implements of men, not elves. The mystery deepened, and in her turn she drew for him a township with houses and animals and the like. 

"No," he said to her, not unkindly. It was clear he did not mean a town. Then he stopped and considered, and rather sheepishly he put the town next to the people, but not right next to it.

"Mellon," he said emphatically, pointing to his chest. (friend) Then he pointed again to the stick figures in the sand.

"Aear," he said drawing waves, further away. (sea) A strange look came into his eyes as he looked at his depiction of the sea, a strange longing almost, which he quickly quelshed.

"Sea?" asked Annabelle. "I have heard of that you know," she said, trying to believe she was worldly.

Legolas seemed interested in the word she had used for his picture, and gestured for her to repeat it again. Then he copied her, to which she nodded. He then jumped up and began to flap his arms about comically.

"Gaear," he said. (gull) He tried to mimic the cries of seagulls, and Annabelle found herself smirking at his attempts. It was obvious he meant a sea-bird of some kind, so she obligingly said back, "Sea bird."

"Ahh," Legolas uttered appreciatively. "Sea bird. Bird. Hmm." He had stopped flapping his arms and instead flopped down beside her and began pointing to some objects around in their vicinity. In this way their little game continued, and they swapped parts of their languages with each other.

Legolas' bright eyes showed how much he was enjoying the game. He would periodically return to former objects they had already covered to test his memory. He was often correct. Then he would test her memory and she was less often right. He seemed to find that a little amusing, and would poke her every time she got one of the questions wrong. This only made her concentrate on his words even more, and soon she knew the word for fire, tree, stone, sky, bread, water, as well as various parts of the body too.

She tried to trick him by testing him on objects they had not covered yet, but he would just shake his head sadly and utter something incomprehensible to her.

It was rather a fun game because of the joviality he brought to it. The only word she didn't quite get was mellon. All she knew was that they were approaching these mellon people, the menfolk he had mentioned, and that Legolas was quite pleased about it. The town he said was Wickerwood. He seemed in quite high spirits as he unrolled his bedroll for her to bed down in for the night. He himself then settled on the other side of the fire as he usually did.

Him lying there staring up at the half-covered stars, she could see his profile smiling away at some inner happiness or joy. But Annabelle was not herself quite so comforted. What would this new development mean to her personally, now that she knew for sure that she was further away from home than ever? Was Legolas even considering that? A dread settled upon her anew, and her old fear began to resurface again.

She would just have to find someone in the township of Wickerwood to return her to her settlement, even though she couldn't pay them anything at all. And Legolas would be gone again, without her ever truly understanding what or who he was. The mysterious, kind stranger with the keen blue eyes and flowing blonde hair. Turning on her side away from his obvious happiness and from the fire's warm light, she began to tremble a little, and a wee, small tear escaped from her eye. It was just the smoke from the fire, she tried to tell herself, and then she drifted into an uncomfortable, dreamless slumber that she remained immersed in until morning.

* * *

Upon the rising of the sun, Annabelle noticed that Legolas was up even earlier than usual and was even more organised around the camp as well, if that was possible. The spring in his step was still there from last night, and he greeted her with a cheery good morning. Pretending to be in good spirits herself, she smiled back at him, but her heart really was not in it. 

Pointing to the rising sun and then to the midpoint in the sky, Legolas tried to tell her that they would meet his _mellon-nin_ by midday, if all went right for them. As he was rolling up the bedroll, he called her by that term as well. She knew it must mean 'friend' by now, they would be meeting his friends. Though the dread was still there in some measure, she also had to admit to herself that the new day brought with it a sense of curiosity. Perhaps it was some of Legolas' contagious good spirits, but she did wonder what kind of friends he would have and why they would be human.

She also knew that there would be a good chance that they would speak the Harad Tongue, her tongue, so she would probably find learning things a good deal easier. She could thank Legolas properly through some translator, before he went upon his way again into the big, wide world of Middle Earth. She began to feel curious about where he came from now, what he was doing here, and what kind of life he might lead. How old he was too, could he possibly be over one hundred years old? And she wondered with some awe if he had fought in the War of the Ring, or knew anyone who did. She had already seen his efficient handy-work with the bow, so was he a trained warrior of some kind?

In fact as they had been travelling, Annabelle realised she hadn't taken as much notice of him as she could have, so preoccupied had she been in her own fears for the future. Admittedly, they had spent most of the days on horseback, where the most she could study was the back of his flaxen haired head, but even in camp, she had withdrawn most of the time, even averting her gaze when he had tried to speak to her. Realising they would part ways by lunchtime today gave her a newer perspective of this warrior-elf who had freed her four days earlier. She should have paid more attention, been more open and willing to interact with him. She remembered her fear, and how lightened it felt now, maybe that was part of Legolas' doing. It was hard to be overly fearful in his company, she realised. That kind of thing just seemed to slide right off after spending all of this time around him.

As usual, they were preparing to get on horseback for the last leg of the journey to meet his friends. Before they did though, he gave her bandages, the ones that had been tied around her wrists, a checkup.

He had been most thoughtful all of this time when it came to her injuries. Each night he had examined her cuts and applied more ointment before using fresh bandages to bind them. They were healing nicely thanks to whatever was in the slave he was using. She could swivel her wrists around quite easily now whereas before they had felt quite raw and sore.

She thanked him now as he checked to see they were tied tight enough, trying to catch his eye this time to let him know that she did appreciate all he had done for her. All of it had been unasked, but well needed just the same.

Legolas seemed to get her meaning and said, "Think nothing of it. I am not a healer by any stretch of the imagination, but I am glad to see that you are more comfortable now."

It seemed they were beginning to take to speaking to each other in a more lengthy fashion despite the fact they knew their specific words were not understood. It didn't matter so much now that they were feeling a bit more comfortable, and generally the feeling of their words came across just the same.

"Are you a healer I wonder," Annabelle mused out loud to him as he patted her wrists gently.

"If only I could heal as well as others that I know," Legolas answered. Patting Arod he continued humbly, "This horse here could better diagnose someone than I could, although I try when I have to."

"Oh the horse. Am I holding us up? We had better make our way then to meet your queer mellon folk. I never could work out if your diagram depicted them as holding swords or giant bread sticks." She giggled at her own joke.

He leapt onto his horse then, and helped Annabelle up. She supposed it would be her last ride with this funny fellow and then she would be promptly sent home again, perhaps with a mail wagon or some such that travelled to Goldacres intermittently throughout the year.


	2. New Threat

**Chapter Two - New Threat**

On the outskirts of the township of Wickerwood, a middling populated spot far south in Gondor, Aragorn and company waited for the last of the scouts to return.

The scouts were bringing news of the goings on in this region of his Kingdom. "His" kingdom for the simple fact that Gondor formed part of The Reunited Kingdom that was founded after the War of the Ring. Aragorn, the heir of Isildur, had taken his rightful place as King of the West after this war, and was now known as King Elessar to his people.

But many just knew him as Strider, his name of old, or as Aragorn. He was not a character that stood on too much formality, being raised in Rivendell unawares of his true bloodline. Humble in nature, Aragorn only learned of his true bloodline and the responsibility that went with that after his formulative teenage years. When he grew old enough, his true identity as heir of Isildur was revealed to him by his guardian Elrond. Even then, Aragorn had refused to seek out the unoccupied thrown in Minas Tirith, preferring to travel the land, often alone, learning of other kingdoms and fighting many battles under the leaderships of those kings who ruled there.

A humble man was Aragorn, yet fair-minded and wise as well; he was a man who held his kingship seemingly lightly, yet in actual fact with deadly seriousness. And indeed Gondor prospered under his balanced approach, something he wanted to remain that way. Just because he now had a Thrown and a wife, that of Arwen the Lorien elleth, did not mean he did not still stride out personally to inspect and protect his own land. It was something he preferred to do from time to time, in order to clear his mind of the stuffy business of King that often came his way these days. There was much of the rapscallion left in Aragorn, much of the Strider still in him yet, though since becoming King, he had learned to be more responsible and did do quite okay for himself in that area.

Now he waited for his good friend Legolas to return from his scouting exercise and bring news, hopefully, that all was peaceful in the land. Such news would finish their month long survey of this area.

Most of the other scouts had brought back nothing but positive news. The settlements they had encountered were civilised, and even better they contained none of the Wild Men, the ones who had mischievously fought for Sauron. This was a relief. Either these men had all been driven far beyond the boundaries of Gondor, or they had decided to take on new ways. Most probably the former was true. In any case, only true settlements had been uncovered so far, and Aragorn could breath a lot easier now that he knew the truth of this situation.

With another sigh, because Legolas was half a day late already, Aragorn at last spied Arod approaching along the main road to Wickerwood.

Aragorn's band of men had set up a camp on the road outside of the township rather than staying in the township proper. It was simply easier to do things this way. Aragorn would hate to have to wait on pomp and ceremony if any in the town recognised their King. He was probably being neurotic on that count, since with long practise, he was a master at blending and appearing invisible in crowded streets or bars. Who would pay any attention to the ill-kept man with the intense stare and dirty travelling cloak? Who would approach him to speak when his grey eyes turned on any nearby with such penetrating depth? Probably none. But he would really hate it if a marshal, captain or even a town soldier recognised him and alerted all the folk. That would just slow him down and disrupt everything. Slipping in and out of places quietly, unnoticed, was his style. This was strange behaviour perhaps for a King, but not so for the Strider of old.

As Legolas came nearer, Aragorn thought his eyes were deceiving him at first. There appeared to be another rider on the back of his mount. Aragorn squinted further and took a few strides forward, shading his face with his hand. Who did Legolas know in this god-forsaken wilderness to be offering a ride to? Then he let out a low whistle, and his weathered face crinkled into a knowing smile.

Arod's whinnies could be heard as the horse approached and slowed to a walk. A rather attractive, if not nervous, female sat behind Legolas, and at Aragorn's knowing look and wink, Legolas rolled his eyes and determined himself not to fall prey to too many of his friend's familiar jibes.

"Well met, my friend," called Aragorn, as Legolas slid down to the ground. They clasped hands in a greeting, then Aragorn turned his attention to Annabelle, still sitting waiting for a hand down.

"And who might you be?" asked Aragorn in a magnanimous way, reaching up to aid her off, just a split second before Legolas could do the same.

"Thank you, sir," responded Annabelle, with genuine warmth, her feet now touching the firm ground. She found herself looking to Legolas for a cue. She had no idea really to whom she was speaking, but at least he got her Tongue right.

"Let me introduce you," said Legolas, taking her meaning. "This is…this is my friend Aragorn of Gondor." He decided not to mention the word king, even though he doubted she would understand anyway. Then turning to Aragorn he announced hesitantly, "And this here is Miss Aniel…of…of…" It wasn't often that Legolas stumbled over the names of places, but when they were in an unfamiliar tongue, it could happen.

"Goldacres," finished Annabelle, a little breathlessly. She didn't know what she had expected to find when they arrived to meet the men, and was a little surprised that it all seemed so normal and friendly.

"Goldacres," echoed Aragorn as he scratched his head. "Another one to place on our new map then Legolas. I told you this would not be a waste of time, at least not a complete one anyway."

"About that…" began the elf, trying to turn his friend away from the girl.

"Ah, not so fast _mellon_." Aragorn cast a wolfish grin towards Annabelle. "Who is she then? It seems you can't be left alone for a moment without a new female turning up by your side. Really Legolas, in the city that is okay, but out here…." He trailed off, and his serious tone collapsed into laughter. Aragorn punched Legolas lightly in his arm then, and roared with laughter. "You know what they say don't you? For every man there is but a handful of damsels, but for every "Prince" there is a damsel around every corner and at least six in every town. Never were truer words spoken when it comes to you." Whilst Aragorn appreciated his own wit, Legolas cringed.

"Don't call me that," he said quickly and quietly, glancing at Annabelle.

"Call you what? Oh, _prince_ you mean?" Aragorn accentuated the word prince loudly, causing Legolas to groan.

"You are doing this deliberately to taunt me, something you have grown very good at over the years," Legolas conceded. "Now come, don't we have more important things to discuss. The other scouts….?"

"Not so fast, smooth one. Come on, out with it. I want the full story. I haven't had anything to laugh about in days. The reporting can wait a bit longer." Legolas merely cast a baleful eye to the heavens and began recounting the story to his overly curious friend.

Meanwhile, to this animated exchange in elvish, Annabelle had watched with wide eyes, noticing the discomfiture of the lordly elf and the jesting of the man. Very interesting, she reflected. This was all getting more interesting by the second. She wondered why Legolas groaned so, and why such a pained expression was forming on his face, also to be expressed in every inch of his body language. What kind of torture was he being put through by Aragorn? She hoped very much it had nothing to do with her.

"Unbelievable," said Aragorn, at the conclusion of an abbreviated version of the tale. "Well at least it wasn't orcs either of you encountered, and I say that for my sake. The last thing this land needs is stray bands of orcs, or whole infestations of them, still haunting and a-looting. Trolls I can at least live with, for now," he growled.

Placing an arm over Legolas' shoulders, Aragorn began walking him back to the camp proper. Annabelle stood there speechless as they began to leave. Then they stopped and Aragorn called over his shoulder to her.

"Are you coming, Lady? You are most welcome in my camp for the night, or other arrangements will be made."

"Thank you," she stammered, somewhat relieved.

As Arod, Legolas' ever-obedient horse, and her followed the two into the camp, she wondered if that was it now, she was relegated to the company of animals.

* * *

The camp was very much one of males. In fact, Annabelle could not see another female anywhere in sight. At least when she had been travelling with her original party, there were other women. She shrugged internally to herself and knew it would just be for the one night. Though surely someone could take her to Wickerwood today. They were close enough to see smoke curling from the settlement only a few leagues away; she really did think that she had been forgotten. And she did not relish standing up for herself right now in a way that would draw anyone's attention. Rather, she just wanted to take in where she was and what was going on. It was new and curious to her. She no longer felt afraid in the company she was keeping. If nothing else, she was feeling afraid to leave it again, for Legolas had become familiar and travelling home again without him seemed somehow hollow and dreadful. Though it would have to be done. But maybe tomorrow, and that was fine by her.

She followed the two to their end of the camp, which was a busy affair of men, horses, fires, bags and implements. Keeping out of their way, she sat where she could watch them, surreptitiously, with their backs to her. Aragorn had looked around once to see where she was and if she was safe, then had turned back to the busy conversation he and Legolas shared. But she wasn't really watching Aragorn as much as she was the blonde with him. Oh Aragorn was a great curiosity to her, but it was Legolas that drew her gaze and consideration.

How oddly he had acted when they arrived, and how different was his behaviour. Whilst with her he had been all kindness and gallantry, almost, if that was what it was. But around Aragorn he lost those aspects and was more normal, more vulnerable actually. More human, if you could call an elf that. It was merely an aspect of him that she hadn't been able to guess earlier. Just intriguing, nothing more than that she told herself. Elves weren't perfect, untouchable beings after all, they were just people, people with differences, but still underneath, just folk like everyone else. That thought settled her a bit more than she cared to analyse.

Aragorn and Legolas meanwhile swapped reports of what they had found on their wanderings, and surmised what it meant.

Since Legolas was the last to return to the camp, Aragorn filled him in on what the other scouts and found. Most of it was normal. There was the report of the occasional abandoned township that had been destroyed by orcs during the War, the people either all murdered or moved on to a newer location. The land was still in tact though, woods had not been felled or burned, rivers had not been poisoned, and life still graced every inch of it, a good sign that evil was no longer abroad, at least not the old evil that they knew so well.

There had been one worrying report though, just the one. It was more of a mystery really, and this report is where the two now turned their attention, lowering their voices instinctively, an instinct learned during the War and that lingered yet.

"Attackers you say?" asked the elf in shock, when Aragorn began to tell him of the strange occurrence. "Was anyone hurt or lost?"

"That is the thing," said Aragorn, "they were not, but it was a close thing. Arrows were fired at Arndurad, just missing him by bare inches, and when he tried to find who had fired those arrows, they were gone. The confusing thing is that there were no traces of anyone to be found at all. No tracks."

The two exchanged significant glances. After both of them had spent years tracking lowlife creatures, they knew how unusual it was for an assailant to leave behind no clues, none at all. All of the men partaking on the survey were chosen for their tracking skills, obviously. Legolas' brows furrowed as he considered.

"Did Arndurad retrieve the arrows?" he asked at last.

"Yes, I have them." Aragorn reached down and took a carefully wrapped package from a bag and placed it before Legolas. He warned, "You will not like this, I fear. It brings much disquiet to me to show you."

Hesitating only a moment, Legolas reached forward and unfolded the flap of material to peer at the offending implements. A quick intake of breath was all he could give at that moment. Then he suddenly jerked and looked forcefully at Aragorn.

"Surely this is some kind of jest," he hissed. "This," he indicated the arrows disgustedly, "this simply cannot be!"

Aragorn bowed his head in bitter disappointment.

"I was afraid that would be your reaction. I could not be sure myself. I knew it must be confirmed by an elven…" and he trailed of heavily, sparing a compassionate glance at his friend. "This will mean trouble for all of us." But he could not bring himself to approach or voice his fears, so onerous was it, so bitter this finding. The two merely looked at each other as if they could somehow make it go away again, as though their combined boding could extinguish the evidence and remove the truth of what it appeared to show. Hopelessly they looked at each other, and then away again.

"We must hasten straight to Rivendell," said Legolas softly. "This must be confirmed by Elrond. He must know. And my home in Mirkwood, and Lorien too…" A ghastly look twisted his fine features as he tried to imagine passing this news on, in lands so fair. How could it be tolerated? In a mood, Legolas suddenly stood up. He wished to be alone, he needed it.

Aragorn nodded his assent to him. Going to Rivendell was tantamount. He would journey there too. They would leave in the morning, riding fast and hard.

As Legolas turned on his heal to leave, Aragorn fancied he noticed him shaking, probably with rage or shock. Legolas went to seek out the nearest stand of trees, where he felt most at home with nature, walking shakily away, eyes glazed over. Aragorn could do nothing but watch him go; no comfort could he offer. Dejectedly, he rewrapped the arrows once more and stowed them away. Then he lost himself in his own thoughts, thinking of Arwen also, and that gave him great comfort.

* * *

From where Annabelle sat resting, she noticed movement in the camp. Where all had been fairly sedate and quiet, she noticed men rushing to and fro. There was chatter amongst them, and worried glances too, and a strange atmosphere settled upon the campsite. At length, Aragorn wandered over to the lost maiden. "Aniel," he said, "how goes you?"

"Why do you call me that? Aniel?" she asked. "You are not an elf." She was merely curious about him.

"Do you not like the name?" he pondered. "An elven name is a very special thing to have. I was raised amongst the elves, in Rivendell. It is an honour if they bestow on you a term like this, it means that they consider you a friend."

"Oh." She was quiet for a moment. "In that case, I would feel like I was insulting Legolas if you did not use that name. I have been growing used to it and quite like it." She looked around the camp. "Speaking of Legolas, where has he got to? Is everything all right?" She gestured to the disquiet in the camp, which was now beginning to settle a bit though the atmosphere was still thick.

"It depends what you mean by 'all right'" said Aragorn honestly. At her look he continued, "No, it is nothing that you have done. We simply have a sudden change of plans that will take effect immediately in the morning. We ride to Rivendell, north of here, and we are in great haste. I think we must find a guide for you to return you to your home."

"Yes, thank you."

Annabelle couldn't quite keep the disappointment out of her voice. These people seemed to lead such exciting lives, and she felt like she was looking in through a window to witness an event that was probably commonplace for them, but which stirred her in ways that she did not yet recognise_. North._ The idea of travelling north sounded irresistible to her, if only to forestall her return to a life of doing and thinking not much at all.

Being perceptive as Aragorn was, he noticed the little hesitations around Annabelle, though did not know how to read them. He said, "We had better take a trip, you and I, over yonder to Wickerwood, and I will personally make sure you are safe and taken care of. There will not be time in the morning." She nodded. "Are you all set to go?" he asked.

"Erm, I suppose I am," she responded. She would have liked to at least say goodbye to the one who had courageously saved her and had taken care of her for the past four days, but still she could see Legolas nowhere in sight. She swallowed. "Thank you for your kindness," she said as she got up after Aragorn to follow him to the horses. He merely waved dismissively.

"Think naught of it," he said airily.

Hoisting her onto the back of his steed behind him, he offered by way of explanation, "Legolas is….indisposed…at the moment, or I am sure he would take you himself. I hope you do not mind Lady. I will pass him a message for you if you would like." Without waiting for a reply, he nudged his horse forward and they took the road to Wickerwood at a steady pace.

When they reached the township, Annabelle was amazed at how busy it was, at how wide the main thoroughfare was, and at the amount of stalls at the market they passed. They were selling fruit and meat and bread, but also there were stalls selling jewellery and crafts and other things that were pure luxury to a girl like her. The dust of her travels seemed suddenly forgotten as she gazed around her in appreciation. (In truth, Wickerwood was a small, dusty, provincial town, but to Annabelle, who came from a farm near a hamlet, it was like opening the page to a wider world.)

Aragorn haltered his horse Roheryn outside a public drinking tavern, and after tying him to a post, both he and Annabelle entered.

Several men in the bar looked at him, paying no heed at all to Annabelle. Aragorn had the sort of aura that people noticed (when he wasn't sneaking around being Strider the Ranger). He could command attention and had a quiet feeling of power around him. Of course no one recognised him, and so he began a conversation with the bar keeper asking about trade to a place called Goldacres.

Scratching his dishevelled head, he said to Annabelle, "There are no wagons going in that direction for several weeks. I suppose that is not unusual. I will try to do a bit better for you, but I cannot promise you anything. While I ask around here, why don't you wait for me outside in the fresh air? But don't," he added sternly, "get into any trouble, okay?"

"Yes, lovely idea. And I will stay out of trouble." She turned and walked back out into the sunshine, looking both ways down the street for something to watch while she waited there. A few men walked past and commented on her to each other, but she didn't catch what they said. She kept her eyes downcast until they had passed. Then she noticed some children playing, and with a smile forming on her lips, she began watching them, until their mother eventually caught up with them and moved them along with her down the street. So she stood and looked at nothing in particular, wondering what was taking that Aragorn so long.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence beside her, and with a start, glanced up quickly to see someone standing in front of her, cast in shadow by the sun placed directly behind him. It was a very tall, lithe person, covered from head to toe in a travel cloak that was drawn about his body. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a black and red trim around the cloak, a rather ornate piece of work. She craned her head to look at his face.

When she did, she gasped. Before her stood an elf. Another one! The shock of that alone momentarily knocked the breath out of her. She put her hand up to shade her face to cover what she was feeling, peering at him from the shade it offered. "May I help you?" she stammered.

"I could not help notice you enter that bar a moment before with Aragorn Elessar," he said, using the King's name.

"The Ranger?" she asked. "Well, yes I did."

At her words, his face twisted into a slight smile and his eyes held amusement, dancing with something she could not read. His lips almost curled into something unpleasant. He spoke.

"I have a message I would like you to give him when he emerges, if you could be so kind." The elf's voice was smooth and quiet, like a pond that has not been stirred for days. It was a little chilly to hear him speak.

"Oh, no," said Annabelle, nervous of getting the message right. "He is right in there, why don't you just…" She went to gesture through the doorway, but the elf reached out and grabbed her forearm to stop her. He was strong, very strong, and at his tight grasp, she felt herself involuntarily shudder. He remained holding onto her, looking straight into her eyes. As she stood frozen, his hand grasped even harder, if that was possible, and Annabelle felt the need to protest.

"Sir, would you please…"

"Listen to me!" the elf said quickly, moving closer to her. He cut off all attempts at protest, and still he did not release her arm. "The message will not be difficult. It is just this!" His eyes went completely cold and he bent down and kissed her full on the mouth, yanking her to him with his hold on her and not letting her move or struggle whilst he casually mauled her.

The kiss was unpleasant and certainly uncalled for. She tried to pull apart several times but could not remove herself from between him and the tavern wall. When he did pull back again, his eyes merely stared right through her, and his lips were moist from where he had touched her.

"Humans," he said, "_Gwaur! Fuia_!" (Dirty, disgusting) Then with a flounce of his cloak, he had turned and retreated at surprising speed. She watched his back as he left, stunned, observing his long, black hair that did not look particularly elven and clean. Annabelle was left standing there, shaken as though she had just been assaulted with a weapon and physically injured.

It was at that moment that Aragorn emerged from the dark doorway, saying when he saw her, "No luck, but we can still….Aniel? What is wrong?"

Trembling uncontrollably, she put her face in her hands and sobbed once or twice. She felt used. It was an awful feeling. Aragorn, the town, her need to get home, all of this was forgotten as she withdrew into herself, physically and mentally, then looked at Aragorn wide-eyed, completely unable to speak.

"Child, what is it?" he asked. "It looks like you have just seen a wraith!"

"I…I…think I did. My God, why?"

Aragorn came and stood directly in front of her, where the elf had stood just moments before. He placed a hand firmly on each of her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes to try to guess what had happened. Instead of feeling extreme cold as she had with the elf, she felt warmth radiate from his concern, and some small amount of strength seeped into her from his touch.

"Someone hurt me," she whispered to him. "It was a…. another…it was like…" Then the light came into her eyes as she remembered what it had said to her. "He knew you, he said your name!"

Aragorn quickly raised his head from just inches above her, and swept the street both ways with his gaze, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. "Who, child? Who knew me?"

"The elven. The awful elf!"

"What?" exclaimed Aragorn softly, clearly perplexed. "Quickly now. Come inside for a bit, out of this sun, and gather yourself." He went to grab her arm to guide her but she snatched it away quickly.

"He hurt my arm, don't you believe me?" Annabelle pulled up her sleeve, and sure enough, a large bruise was beginning to form there, grey and mottled.

Aragorn's eyes narrowed when he saw it. It was fresh and brutal looking. "Come inside just the same," he said with more concern now. "I believe you Aniel. But you must calm down a bit to tell me what happened. All of it."

* * *

She swallowed and let him lead her into the dark tavern to a table away from prying eyes. He went to the bar and got her a stiff drink and brought it back again.

"Have a few sips, it will give you some strength and fire."

Doing as he asked she sipped, then winced. But it did as he had hoped and calmed her down a bit.

"Now tell me about this elven," he implored.

Gulping, fidgeting with a napkin, she said, "He just appeared before me. I must have been daydreaming, and he was there suddenly. He was friendly at first. No, actually, he was kind of….neutral. He said your name, Aragorn Elessar is what he said," she paused for a moment, considering. "Isn't that the name of the King? Elessar! Why, if I am not mistaken, yes it is. King of the West, Lord of the Dunedain….."she trailed off, looking at Aragorn, imploring him to say something that would make it all make sense.

He glanced down at the table, then admitted self-consciously, "I am King Elessar, Lord of the West."

A hand quickly went to the girl's mouth, her hand. A few heavy breaths make her chest heave as she took in what he was saying. "Oh Lord," she mumbled, reaching to her drink and taking a swig. "What have I got myself into?" she said to no one in particular.

"It is okay." Once again Aragorn reached over to her shoulder and squeezed. "Really."

"I'm not so sure. The elven…it got worse."

"Tell me." His eyes urged her for the rest.

"He said he had a message I was to give you. I tried to tell him you were inside the tavern, then he grabbed my arm, so tight, and I could not free it. Then his manner changed immediately, and he did not hide his vileness." She gingerly rubbed her bruised arm. She did not want to finish the story, or recall any of it. It was incredibly undignified, if nothing else.

"Tell me the message."

"Ugh…"

"It is okay."

She sighed. "He kissed me." She winced. "In a not very nice way!"

"And that was the message?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"Yes," she said nodding. "Then he was away again and disappeared quickly down the street." She paused and remembered. "He was wearing a travel cloak that had a foreign trim on it, an elvish design I suppose. It caught my attention."

"What did it look like, and what colours….?"

"It was writing I think, but I know not for sure. It was black and red."

"_Valar_," swore the king softly. He shook his head. "This gets worse by the minute."

"What does it mean?" Annabelle felt she had a right to know, after all, she had been the victim in this.

"Ahh. It means we are going to need you, I think. You were right when you said you were caught up in this. You are involved now, I am sorry."

Annabelle didn't have an immediate answer to this. They sat there in silence each lost in their own thoughts.

Annabelle's mind was churning, so she finished her drink off, glad for the fire it gave to her cold, lurching stomach.

At great length, Aragorn said, almost unwilling to break the silence, "Would you be willing to travel with us to Rivendell? I can only ask you and hope that you can understand how important it is you come. This is of great importance," he stressed. "We will reward you for your time if you could do this."

This was a surprise. "Travel with you and Legolas, you mean?"

"Yes. Will you?"

"Oh. My gosh. But why?"

"Because of your encounter. Because…" he tried to find words for the growing fear he was experiencing. "The one you have seen, no other has seen. It is a threat. The message was certainly a threat, one that has arrived a bolt out of the blue. Do you see, you have information and people are going to need to talk to you, to look into your mind. Please."

"Aragorn, you do not have to beg. I will do it. I will ride with you and…Legolas, wherever you need me to. Of course, that is provided I get home safely in the end," she added smiling, not really realising what she was agreeing to.

"Thank you." His shoulders moved with slight relief. "Let's get moving now. I do not feel safe in this tavern."

"Yes, my King."

Aragorn stopped midway out of his seat, and it was funny to see his reaction. Turning just a slight shade of pink, he implored, "Please, Aniel, you do not need to refer to my…title. I would prefer it if you did not. Aragorn would suffice. Could you do that?"

"If that is what you would prefer, then yes…Aragorn."

"Thank you," he said gravely. He led her out of the tavern, and they self-consciously mounted Roheryn, knowing they were probably being watched. Then they rode for their camp outside of Wickerwood, vastly glad to leave the town behind and all who were in it.

* * *

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	3. Off to Rivendell

_Reviewers, thanks for your support!! Here's the start of the next part._

* * *

**Part 3 – Off To Rivendell**

When they reached the camp, the sun was lowering in the western sky, causing ripples of violet and pink to grace the horizon. Legolas was back in the camp again, and he strode over to them purposefully as soon as he saw them return.

"What has happened?" he asked.

"There has been a development in town, and Aniel has agreed to travel with us to Rivendell."

Legolas took a double take of his friend, noticing the seriousness marking his face.

As they most usually spoke in Sindarin when together and did so now, there was no need to worry about Annabelle eavesdropping on their words. Quickly Aragorn apprised Legolas of the situation as it had been told him. Several times Legolas glanced at Annabelle unbelievingly and swore. He was clearly upset. Something about him also seemed to accept the inevitable, and rather than emote his inner turmoil as before, he became calm instead, stillness itself, and grimness marred his features. At last he sighed.

"All right," he conceded, turning to Annabelle. "First thing is first. Let me see your latest injuries, if you will."

When she didn't understand, he simply took her by the hand and led her away to his campfire, where he had stowed his bag with the ointments in. He busily got to work placing some cream on her bruises, and he removed her wrist bandages and tossed them on the fire. At least her wrists were healed now, thanks to the herbal knowledge that went into mixing the creams.

Lightly he ran his fingers over where the cuts and been. Yes, it had healed nicely, with barely a scar discernible. Annabelle let his fingers rove, watching fascinated as he studied her arms. There was really no need for him to spend so long with his inspection, though she was caught by his carefulness and gentleness as his fingertips went up and down her skin, appraising it's state. His mind seemed to have drifted off for the moment; she knew there was a lot on it, things she couldn't rightly guess. Eventually she pulled her arm away from him again, smiling, and he smiled too when he realised what he had been doing. He busied himself putting away his bag again, whilst Aragorn approached and sat down beside the two.

He brought some bread, cheese and fruit for them, and he also carried a book with him. He sat down, waiting for the inevitable that he knew would happen.

"Aragorn," said Legolas on cue. "Could you translate for me please. I must question Aniel carefully."

"My friend," the man said. "She is tired, and there will be many, many who will wish to question and hear her story. Let this occur later." When it looked as though Legolas would argue, he added meaningfully, "Let it go, for now."

Resignedly, Legolas let it go. Instead he said, "Ask her how she is? Is she faring well?"

Aragorn smiled at this sign that his friend's mental state was much less intense than the afternoon. He pulled out the book he had been carrying.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" He passed the book of translations over to the elf. On the cover was written: The Languages of the Dunedain. Common Speech to Harad.

"Ah!" Legolas flipped through it quickly. "Thank you!"

Without a further glance up, he deftly searched to find the translations to Harad that he was looking for.

"Are you well?" he asked directly to Annabelle, using her tongue.

"Yes, thank you, I believe I am."

She smirked. It was a little adorable to watch the elf shift his intensity to the book in front of him. He never did anything by half. He smiled his satisfaction that he had gotten through to her so easily. Then he quickly looked up the word 'believe' in order to better fathom the end of her statement. He nodded, and took a bite of his bread.

Wordlessly, Aragorn slipped away from the fire, leaving them alone again. He was so relieved that Legolas had a focus other than the terrible blow they had taken today by the so-called 'message' that was delivered. There was something to take the elf's attention away from the implications of it all. Or if not something, then someone.

Clearly, Legolas had taken to this human he had saved, and because of his desire to communicate with her, Aragorn guessed that he wished to protect her. That is what one did with their charge, they protected them. Annabelle seemed just as happy to play along and keep Legolas entertained, and for that Aragorn thanked the _Valar_. It would make their journey a lot easier, keeping stress and anxiety to a minimum.

* * *

The rising of the sun heralded the first day of their journey north together as a group. They planned to pass through Rohan and, keeping east of the Misty Mountains, take the route of the River Anduin, so far as Minas Tirith, where they would ford the Great River. Then they could eventually continue onwards to Rivendell.

It was debatable at this stage whether they would detour to visit Lorien first. Almost certainly, someone would be dispatched to send word to the Lady Galadriel in the Golden Wood. Some kind of council may even need to be convened on the matter, almost in the way that it had only a few years earlier with the threat of Sauron heavy on the land. Hopefully it would not come to that, however all those that understood this new threat were worried. They knew they had good reason to be for they possessed scarce little intelligence on the matter. This was why Annabelle's eyewitness account was crucial. Action was going to be needed, but others had to be informed first, and the specific plan of action discussed and agreed upon. But before all of this happened, they first had to travel the River Anduin, and somewhat hurriedly.

The prior evening, men had been sent into town to renew essential supplies, so they were now ready to ride. It would be a pleasant ride for the most part, there really was no more fear of orcs or wild men. Most of these had been pushed far east out of Mordor and into the unknown realms beyond. The weather this time of year was fairly pleasant. Indeed, Middle-Earth was a temperate land, the only real extremes of climate were the high peaks, but they were not going there.

A few new items of clothing, including a warmer cloak for evenings, were found for Aniel in the town the night before. With relief she was able to discard her old, travel worn garments and dress more sensibly for riding in some soft but durable pants and a short tunic of blue. She was also given a brush for her hair, and some bands so she could tie it back when riding. Luckily her shoes were still in good order.

The bags were all packed early that morning, and a man, an officer in Aragorn's army of Gondor, led a horse over to where she waited.

"My Lady," he said bowing to her, "this horse has been commissioned for your use to Rivendell. Her name is Bluestar. Ride her well." With that, he handed the reigns over and she turned grateful eyes to the mare. She spent a few minutes speaking softly to Bluestar, stroking the fine brown horse, wondering where she could scrounge an apple from. There were many apple trees in these parts, so she would keep her eyes open for one.

Unlike Arod, which did not have a saddle (elves never rode with saddles, to them that was a point of some mirth), Bluestar was saddled and Annabelle climbed easily on. Bluestar whickered gently, showing she did not mind.

"Good girl!" said Annabelle, stroking her and not hearing the approach of Legolas upon Arod until he came along side her.

"We ride, my Lady!" he announced triumphantly, in Haradian. Annabelle smiled encouragingly at his quick learning of the tongue. Gesturing forward he continued, "The woodpeckers are fastly go doing a message." Annabelle burst out laughing.

"Nearly," she commented. At his down face she said, "No one can learn a language in one week, Legolas." He wanted to see where he had gone wrong. "Horse, remember, not woodpecker. Where is your book?"

"Ah, I am sorry." He showed her he had the book in his bag and then gave her an evil grin, as if to challenge her to say he could not learn it.

Since they were going to be riding rather fast all day, he would not be able to look in said book until camp at sundown, but that wasn't going to stop him giving it a go. She admired that in him, he wasn't afraid to try something wholly unfamiliar. That gave her courage to face the long journey ahead, which, if she admitted to herself, she was still having some misgivings about, despite the company she was keeping. This was all very new to her, after all.

Legolas gestured to where Aragorn was leading out the group of twenty-five men. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I will ever be," she responded, giving Bluestar a gentle nudge, and they were off.

At first she wondered where in the order she would be riding, but quickly she found that they were all galloping so fast, order did not matter at all. She wondered if they would be keeping this speed up all day. At least her canteen of water was within easy reach so she could unhook it from the saddle and swig from it whenever she needed, slowing Bluestar down slightly to do so.

Although she worried it would be a tiring journey, it wasn't long until the steady beat of the horses hooves upon the earth got into her blood and made her pulse race strangely. Every person to a man was hunched slightly over their mount, keen and alert as they raced over the open plains, sometimes shouting to each other but mostly keeping quiet and somewhat stern as they went. She saw Aragorn's figure out furthermost in front leading the rest of them, and while she expected Legolas to race up there with him, the elf held back and stayed with her, probably to make sure her riding skills were up to scratch and that she wasn't struggling. She was not.

She somewhat appreciated that she was not being treated as though she were wrapped in cotton wool. That would have been terribly embarrassing to her, as though she was not an equal to the rest, not as in control or as capable. But no one had asked her if she could ride, no one had asked her even if she wanted to, if it suited her. There had been no looks of trepidation directed towards her and no behind her back comments or concerns. Instead, they were simply getting on with it, trusting she was as equal as the rest of them. She liked this. It was a different attitude to what she was used to back home, where often there was an unspoken feeling that being a woman made her less. That simply didn't enter into the picture here, and it somewhat opened her eyes.

They continued riding hard, taking breaks at midmorning and midday to water the horses and rest themselves. They went through then until midafternoon, where they stopped for one of their regular rests.

The land they had been riding through was open and green, with occasional stands of trees here and there. There were also many little streams that they forded, where wildlife grew more abundantly along the edges. There were many wild flowers and wild creatures everywhere they passed. Sometimes their passage startled a group of hares that would spring off in fright amidst the shower of hooves. Overall, Aniel could see that they were falling into an easy routine, one that these men were well used to and comfortable with.

As they halted to refill their canteens, Legolas came up to her.

"You ride well," he offered, his first words to her since morning. "Because you are…er...girl," he said, searching for the word, "…I was not sure, but…" He gave her a thumbs up.

Ah, so they had worried a little after all, but Aniel supposed she had proved herself, even if her ass was getting more than sore. If they could ride all day long and not complain, not frown and not lie down for a nap at the rest break, then she would do the same.

She punched him lightly in the arm for pointing out she was a girl. _Hmph_, some things never changed, even in different races, males were still males. So she said, pointedly, "This girl does know how to ride a woodpecker," to which Legolas cracked a grin.

He said, "I can leave you to ride alone…? Or do you need me to…?" he motioned "staying close".

"Oh, no, um, I think I am capable…" she trailed off. She was hoping Legolas would ride with her some more, but if he wished to be up front with Aragorn, no doubt his rightful place, she wouldn't say a word against it.

It was a little bit lonely when they started up again and the elf went to join Aragorn, but because it was the end of a long day, it was all Aniel could do to stay on her horse and focus on where she was going. She was starting to feel ragged, and Legolas' words about her being 'a girl' began to take a place of prominence in her mind and she wondered if he was right. But even more so, she was determined to show them she could do it, so she finished off the day with gritted teeth, relieved when they finally halted to camp. She simply held her nose ever so slightly in the air whenever one of the men politely inquired how she had fared that day.


	4. Stolen Moments

_Recap: The company have just set out for Minas Tirith. Annabelle is trying to keep up with the pace, aware that she is headed into the unknown, and that an unknown enemy lurks behind somewhere._

* * *

They went on like this for several days until they had at last reached South Ithilien, a partly wooded land, one that Legolas was rather fond of. They were only a few days ride now from Minas Tirith, where they were planning to stop for one or two days, of necessity. Minas Tirith was the seat of power in Gondor, the White City from which Aragorn ruled his land.

With the river always in sight to their left, they headed ever north, enjoying the fair weather and the vigorous ride. Whilst the days went by energetically with no time to breathe, Aniel looked forward to the evenings where she could lay on the cool grass and watch the dark boughs sway in the breeze. And she had taken to an interesting habit. It concerned Legolas.

She often found her eyes drawn to the tall, slight elf in a way she did not understand at first. It was easy to watch him in camp, for he was much more active than she, wandering around busying himself whilst she had less to do and much more time to sit.

At first, he merely caught her eye whenever he happened to wander past. He would often look at her and grin, smile or at the very least nod, wink or even sometimes just pull a face. But even when he was walking around and it was not near her, her eyes began to follow him anyway.

She noticed the way he interacted with the others. Mostly he seemed to keep himself separate from the men, that is except Aragorn, with whom he would speak often, sometimes jesting and other times serious. She admitted she liked to watch how animated his face would become when with him, and when alone, his quietness equally fascinated her, the way he would focus on every task with equal dedication, putting himself equally into everything he did. Was that simply a trait of elves, she wondered, or was it just he? She endeavoured to somehow find out.

One evening she was idly watching the fire, her eyes every now and then moving to where Legolas sat in the dimness on the other side. Every so often their eyes would meet. It seemed to be happening more as each evening went by. She happened to glance over now and, almost as though drawn, his eyes moved to connect with her. Her breath caught slightly in her throat and she glanced nervously away again. When she looked back he was speaking to Aragorn. She took the opportunity to study his face, the planes and angles, the high cheekbones, the strong forehead, the ever so slightly crooked nose, his only one imperfection. Then she looked at his lips as she sometimes did, but quickly away again, for she felt it was wrong to be so bold, considering he was a friend.

She also realised she didn't know that much about him, his family or any part of his life for that matter. Nor was it her place to ask. She badly wanted to know if all elves would have this nervous kind of fluttery affect on her, or just this one elf. How could she know? She would have to wait until Rivendell to find out. Did elven males have this kind of affect on all human girls – she supposed it was possible.

Whilst she enjoyed her surreptitious glances his way, at the end of the day she felt foolish for feeling the way she did. It was probably a passing interspecies '_glamour_' of some kind, something only a naive youngster would fall into. Weren't elves known for being a magical race? That was probably all it was.

She stood up and moved away from the fire, deciding to go for a walk around the camp. Keeping out of the firelight, she walked through the trees near by, but not so far to be lost. It was cool and quiet and she was alone with her thoughts. The noises of night insects filled her ears. She walked slowly, completely relaxed and sure that she was alone, pausing every now and then to look up at the sky, seeing the stars painted upon the velvet of night.

She was picking her way through the dark foliage around her when a shadow moved out from behind it all of a sudden. It was too dark to see anything of detail, only shapes. Immediately her heart caught in her throat. Though she wanted to move, she instantly froze. Quickly the shape came closer, tall it was, and she caught sight of the telltale ears.

Her heart sped up crazily and she was about to get her legs to move or her lungs to work, whichever came first, when Legolas quickly said, "No Aniel, it is only I. Don't be afraid." She almost collasped into his arms.

"Legolas," she breathed. "Please don't do that to me. You scared me half to death."

He came right up to her and caught her hands in his. "Who did you think I was?" he asked.

Annabelle knew that his eyesight was near perfect even in shadows, but she didn't have that advantage. "I thought you were….never mind." She tried to get her heart rate to slow to something near normal, but with the elf this close to her she seemed unable to accomplish it.

"I must remember not to sneak up on you in the _dur_." (dark) His language skills had been improving over the week, but occasionally elvish snuck into his sentences. This was okay because it taught Annabelle Sindarin.

"I'm sorry I made you jump. Did you think I was the _Dolve_…the _dur_ elven that hurt you?" He was very close to her now, and he ran one hand over her arm, testing the bruise there. "Is this _nesta_….er," he searched for the right word, "healed?"

"Look," she said, rolling up her sleeve and hoping he could see. "It's much improved."

"It's much better," he agreed.

They stood for a while close enough that Aniel could see his face clearly. He watched her carefully, something playing in his eyes that she could not read. He had let go of her arm and now wavered, as though undecided, something battling within him. His eyes were uncharacteristically unsure. He seemed to want to keep eye contact with her, a smile playing around his lips. She wondered what he could possibly want and bit her lip in puzzlement. His eyes flickered down to her mouth and back again.

Annabelle steadily held his gaze. She figured he was playing an innocent game with her. He could not possibly be interested in her in a serious way since they were of different races. She knew that forming a bond with him wasn't possible, no matter that he seemed to toy with her. She remembered the way Aragorn often teased or made reference to Legolas' many conquests. There was no way he could desire a human when he had all the Mirkwood elleths to choose from. She knew this awkwardness they shared was simply the result of being caught alone together in the woods at night. It was the clear air, the stars, and being away from home. Although she didn't mind standing with him looking into his eyes, it wasn't altogether right in this setting.

She sighed and playfully punched him in the chest. It worked and broke the moment. Legolas pretended to stagger back and she took a step towards him, warning him with mock aggression. He laughed. "You shouldn't be out here alone in the woods at night." He was only half jesting.

"Well, you are nearby in case a beastie comes after me. My screams would alert you."

"You do not always get the chance to scream."

"Then next time I desire to stretch my legs, I will have someone accompany me."

Legolas arched an eyebrow. "Yes, do that."

"I will."

Annabelle did not fail to notice the tension that had began to creep into some of their conversations lately. She shrugged it off.

Since they were already heading that way, they began to walk back towards the camp's light. Legolas wondered again who Annabelle thought he was when he'd startled her before and brought it up.

She said, "I thought you were the "kissing elf"! That particular elf has been on my mind a bit. He gave me a shock, not to mention an unpleasant memory."

"Mentally….are you healed now?" he asked. "I know you were very….._gosta_, erm…_naer_…no, upset!… the day it happened." Clumsy speech aside, he searched her eyes. She wanted to comfort him, even though she was still shaken by the experience and did have many questions about it.

"There is a lot about the encounter that surprised me. I don't know much about your kind, but the dark haired dur-elf, he is not typical of your race. Am I wrong?"

"No, you are not mistaken. There are many groupings of us, scattered into regions long forgotten, and some….._urck_, it's best we don't speak of it now."

"Are you sure?" the girl offered. "Wouldn't you feel better if you got it off your chest?" She had noticed how much Legolas had changed since he learned of her encounter with the unknown elf, and how much fear had seemed to plague him. She didn't wish to push him, but her curiosity was roused.

"Er…" he stalled. Clearly he did not think that a bright idea. "When more facts come to hand, you will learn more about it. None of us know for sure…" he trailed off apologetically.

There was something bitter in his eyes whenever he broached what had happened. To Annabelle, there seemed to be more to this matter than simply an unpleasant encounter or cryptic message. Realising it was still too painful for Legolas to speak of, she let it drop. As they walked back into camp she knew she would need to learn more about this matter. It was the least she was owed for her commitment to give them aid.


	5. Sacred Water

_A/N: I have made up a few terms for the dark elves in this story. Tolkien uses the term Moriquendi but I needed some informal terms so came up with "dolves", "dur-elves" and "drelves", because I couldn't decide which was better. There is the term "drow" but that refers to dark elves not of Tolkiens world, think that is in role-playing games. Hope that isn't confusing!_

_Thanks for reading and replying, it is much appreciated!_

* * *

**Sacred Water**

The matter of the _Dolve _had played significantly on Legolas' mind ever since they had departed from Wickerwood. He was torn and didn't know what to think. Although Legolas was Son of Thandruil, Prince of Mirkwood, and had played an important part in the Fellowship, he was not as all conquering as many assumed. There were still some things in this world that unnerved him, and the dolve was one of them.

For any of this to make sense, one would have to go back some time in history, to the days of old and the Firstborn (referring to the first generation elves), existing ages before the advent of man. At this time, the Valar called their Firstborn to journey to Valinor. Most of the races of elves set out on the journey, many of them succeeding, some did not. But the Avari (The Unwilling) never set sail. They were a race of elven that never saw the Light of the Two Trees. Some say they were the ancestors of the orcs, the ugly race of deformed, cannibalistic, warmongering beasts. Not a whole lot was known of the Avari race since they had fled to the dark wilds of Middle-Earth ages ago. Could it be that the Dolves were returning?

To Legolas, who had only basically known peace between his kindred races, this was indeed unsettling. But the evidence pointed to this. There was no help for it but to wait to see what both Elrond and Galadriel thought of it. Galadriel had been born in Valinor. She was one of the oldest and wisest in Middle-Earth; if she did not know the answer to this, then none would.

Whilst thoughts of this took up much of Legolas' energy, there was at least a distraction for him, the girl Aniel.

Legolas was not one to have ever mixed with humans other than those who were leaders of their people. He lived and mixed exclusively amongst his own kind. It was how he liked it. It was what any other elf did. They simply did not mix races well, and did not take well to human ways and customs. Those customs were at best ignorant and, at worst, coarse and heathen. The light had always been strong within elves, elevating them not only to immortality, but also elevating their sensitivities, their tastes and their inborn intelligence. For an elf to be around an ordinary human often took such patience it was a tiring experience, and it could leave them feeling sullied. Humans often lived in the dirt, ignorant in their hovels, poor beasts with no history, no beautiful music on harp or flute, no tales of majestic victories from their forefathers, and no plans for a future that would be over (in any case) within the blink of an eye.

Then there was Aniel.

Legolas hadn't thought a whole lot of her at first. He hadn't given her much consideration at all in the beginning except to wonder how to get rid of her. She had seemed afraid and withdrawn to him. He'd had other things on his mind.

Then, slowly, she came out of herself. She showed a quiet bravery in unfamiliar surroundings that hadn't gone unnoticed. But most importantly, she did not bug him or question him or try to get him to do things he didn't want to do, like many females did. Sometimes females could drive Legolas crazy with their primping, their vanity, and they always took so long to do everything. Then they seemed to need to have everything done "their" way no matter what. Legolas often found females such confounding, illogical creatures that, if not for their beauty, they would serve no purpose at all.

Aniel was not typical of that type. She was a bit different.

He didn't yet know how she was different but he would watch to see if he could find out. Admittedly, he was used to delicate she-elves that were cultured and refined with hundreds of years experience. The ones he would encounter in his everyday life as a Prince. They would woo him, often successfully, and there were always games involved. They valued him because of "what" he was, not who he was. He was wary of them and kept himself sealed off from their wiles, their intrigues, all the whilst enjoying what he could get.

He had lived this way for over a thousand years. There was no reason to ever change that. Hadn't he seen what females were capable of? Hadn't he witnessed it scores of times, the same formula, over and over until he wanted to shoot himself in the head with his keenest arrow? The desire to find deeper characteristics in the opposite sex had died a very long time ago, yet he had gone on, thriving, never needing to find his equivalent in any other person except his good friends. It had been enough. And would continue to be.

Aniel – she was an attractive curiosity, nothing more. If he could not see her deception yet, he would in time, he was sure. It never failed. And he would be ready for when it showed itself. But in the meantime, he could enjoy spending time with her without ever getting attached to her or her ways. He would just enjoy her for what she was - and after Rivendell, move on again. It was how he always lived. And this way had never failed him yet.

* * *

Riding through the land of Ithilien was a pleasant experience. Although there were a few brief showers, they were barely enough to wet anything. The men in the camp had commented more than once how dry it was and how the grass lacked some of it's usual green.

The seventh day, as they were going along like usual, Legolas moved back through the group to ride with Annabelle, making a pleasant change for the lone girl in the group.

Because they were out of the open southern plains now, the going was a little slower much to Annabelle's relief. In spots they had to pick their way through dense bush and scrub, causing them to slow to a walk. At these times, it was possible to carry on a conversation as they let their horses pick their own path through the growth. On that afternoon, Legolas sought Annabelle out for some pleasant conversation now that his language skills were on a par to hers. The other men on horseback eyed the two curiously though said nothing.

He told her the history of the places they were passing; the land was full of tales. There were areas where battles had been fought and areas where once busy townships had stood during previous ages. Much of what had been had changed over time, meaning Ithilien was empty of many settlers. Indeed, it was a dream of Legolas and other Mirkwood elves to one day bring this empty land to life again. It was too lovely a place to let it go unappreciated, he swore to her. Annabelle realised, with slight guilt, that the ramifications of that would bring Legolas to live so much nearer to southern Gondor, and to her home. Such thoughts led nowhere so she firmly pushed them from her mind.

As they exited a wooded section and rounded a rise in the land, they came across a serene lake. It was a warm afternoon and Annabelle was busy brushing flies away from her face, hoping now that they were out of the woods, they could fly along again at speed to be rid of the annoying insects. She heard a minor bustle up ahead, and as they got closer to the lake, Legolas exclaimed in anger.

"_Elbereth_! Damn vandals!" He went to ride quickly towards the lake.

"What is it?" asked Annabelle, nudging her mare to keep pace with him.

Over his shoulder he said harshly, "This is the work of orcs. They like to poison the land they travel through."

"What?" she asked, still not seeing.

They came close enough so Annabelle could see what Aragorn and the others, who were standing at the edge of the water, were inspecting. There were several rotting carcasses half floating in the lake, one was the clear remains of a horse and the other seemed to be an unlucky orc, with it's head nearly decapitated.

"_Urck_," swore Legolas disgustedly. He slid off Arod and went over to consult with Aragorn and some of the officers. A moment later he walked back to retrieve several lengths of very thin, but extremely strong, elven rope. He warned her unhappily, "Do not touch the water, it is poisoned now and diseased. See?" And indeed, Annabelle could see the mirky state of the lake as well as the sickening colour it was, especially radiating round the carcasses.

The other men began to set to work digging a large hole set back from shore. Annabelle stayed out of the way, standing there to watch briefly as Legolas and Aragorn tied their ropes so they could lasso the rotting flesh and bones and drag it to shore. She didn't pause long though, for she had a task she could do that could ease the problem. She took out her fullest water flask and went and sat down in the shade with it, some distance from the men where it was tranquil. She closed her eyes to meditate.

It was something she had done many times in the past and it did not take her long to drop into a light trance state. Then she began to pray to _Varda _and bless the water in her flask.

Often at home, she had been called upon to make sacred water. It was not hard and, in fact, any person with the right intention could do it. If she'd had one profession back in Goldacres it was this. Of course, many people thought the creation of this water was old wives tales, but Annabelle knew better. She had seen the efforts of her work pay off and she understood how it worked.

Water was a liquid crystal, and like all crystals it could be used to store information. Water could be programmed. This was achieved using focus. It was easy really, but some people looked on such things with fear and distain. It was only when someone fell ill or they wished to bless a newly born babe did people turn to blessed water.

She worked on the water for about an hour, infusing it with intention. Incidentally, this was the time it took the men to drag the carcasses from the lake, dig holes then bury them completely. Focussing hard and calling on the _Valar_ and even the Ainur, she sealed her water with love. She had now placed some serious light within the liquid crystal and was ready. But she was afraid of what the men's reaction would be so she decided to bless the lake in secret.

"What do you have there?" asked Legolas, coming upon her suddenly, catching her guilty glance. Aragorn was close on his heals. Whilst Aragorn looked sweaty and dirty, Legolas, who had toiled just as hard, did not seem to have a smudge of grime on him. Annabelle could not cease to be amazed by the talents of the elves.

"Me? Nothing," she replied. She looked to Aragorn. "I was taking some rest here in the shade. I hope I have not done anything wrong?" She hoped that explanation would suffice.

"I think we are getting to know you better than that," smiled Aragorn, glancing knowingly to Legolas for agreement. "Look now, what is that I spy behind your back? What are you hiding there?" 

Realising she could not be accused of anything, Annabelle produced her canteen. "This?" she said innocently.

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances.

"She looked guilty, didn't she Leggy?" the man asked, unsatisfied with her answer. Legolas said something uncatchable in elvish, and Aragorn translated. "He says it all depends on what is _in_ the flask. So…spill it." Aragorn went to quickly grab her flask, but Annabelle, slightly quicker, pulled it away and jumped back.

"Aragorn!" she exclaimed, "it is water. You don't want a girl to die of thirst, do you?"

Aragorn and Legolas shook their heads. She was hiding something or she wouldn't have pulled back.

"_Gwaeren_?" said Legolas, scratching his head. "Wine?"

"I am _not_ an alcoholic," laughed Annabelle. "Besides, where would I get wine out here?"

"Well, you have to tell us now what it is…"

Rolling her eyes exaggeratedly, she opened the skin and let them both have a smell.

"Well, that is water," said Legolas, looking at her oddly. "Been in the sun a bit long today, have we?"

Annabelle spluttered. "Actually, if you must know, I…was doing something to this water."

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "Oh, magic?" he continued to taunt good-naturedly.

This was too much for Annabelle. She said, "Okay, I'll explain, but you mustn't laugh. I'll use an example. What happens when you are with someone and they are laughing uncontrollably, but you don't know the joke?"

"I don't know," they both admitted, cagely.

"Well, what effect does their mirth have on you?"

"I for one would probably laugh as well, even if I didn't know why," said Legolas.

"I would probably smile, at the very least," said Aragorn, going along with her.

"Yes, exactly," she said excitedly. "But why would you react that way when you don't know the joke?"

"You just do," said Legolas.

"Yes," she said, "_Exactly_. What happens is that you catch the humour. You catch the energy and then you copy it. Why do you copy it? Because you really can't help it. If you resonate to that energy, you catch it."

"And the water…?" said Aragorn, scratching his beard.

"Water also catches energy. I gave it some energy to catch. This is, erm, sacred water."

"Ah," said Aragorn.

"Ahh!" said Legolas. "Does it really work? How do you do it? What is it for? Oh, the lake!"

"Yes, the lake. This is healing water. It will take the sickness out of the lake. Over a few weeks time all of the water in the lake will eventually catch the energy, because it is high energy. It will override the sick energy, which is low energy. Do you understand the principle?"

What she really wanted to ask was did they believe her, or would they now take her to the nearest volcano to drop her into. (the fate sometimes imposed upon evil spell-doers)

"But this is magic, no?" asked Legolas, clearly excited by what he was hearing.

"I don't know about that," said Annabelle. "Don't you ever pray to the _Valar_? It is like that."

"All the time," said Legolas. "But this is great. I want to learn about this. Can you teach me?"

"You just have to know everything, don't you?" said Annabelle laughing. "Yes I can teach you. But don't go telling everyone else about this, please. I don't want to be labelled a sorceress."

"_Ithron_, maybe." (wizard)

Annabelle actually blushed. Legolas was starting to have that kind of affect on her.

"Just know, this isn't such a strange thing to do." Annabelle was so obsessed with avoiding judgement, she didn't notice the admiration on the elf's face.

"Maybe you have the blood of the Ainur in you," said Aragorn thoughtfully, the first thing he had said in a while. "Anyway, it is a good idea and I commend you for it."

After he walked off, Annabelle said quietly to Legolas, "No, I haven't got any fancy blood in me, I promise. Now that is sorted out, let's you and I pour this into the lake."

They went and spilled the water into the lake where the carcasses had exited. Then, on request, Annabelle explained to Legolas how to make healing water.

glancing knowingly to Legolas for agreement 


	6. Poor Student

A/N: So...how are you guys finding this story? Do I keep going with it? Not sure what to do with this review drought. Well, its up to you if you'd like more. Please keep me informed! (Hint: I will give longer updates if I think there are readers who want more).

_Recap: Annabelle has just taught Legolas how to make sacred water._

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**Chapter 6: Poor Student**

Legolas was appreciative of her effort to teach him something new. It was a much more simple exercise than he had imagined. Though to Annabelle's chagrin, he called this new technique "human magic".

She had tried in vain to impress upon him her embarrassment at him calling it magic. It was nothing of the kind. It was simply working with a liquid crystal. Did he not know that crystals were living things; that water contained consciousness? She tried to explain to him that the _Valar's _emissaries programmed the water through her, so really she was not doing anything at all. She was merely the medium through which others worked, but she doubted he understood the finer points of that. He had a new enthusiasm to start blessing all kinds of things.

He said to her, "May I bless food before I eat it?"

"You certainly can, or say a house before you move into it. Of course."

Legolas' eyes shone with this new knowledge. "I want to make this up to you Aniel. I want to teach you something in return. Do you know anything of weapons?"

The girl cringed. "Oh, no, really, that is okay. I don't feel comfortable with taking the life of another living thing. It is not me."

Legolas looked at her incredulously. "But what of dark things, things that would take your life without a second thought? Would you not like to know how to defend yourself if ever the need arose?"

"Well," she was still hesitant. He seemed to so want to repay her with something, so reluctantly she agreed.

"Good," said Legolas. "We shall start then with the bow. Follow me over to those trees yonder, and we will begin your first lesson." It seemed he had done this type of thing before with others.

Legolas and Annabelle moved over to the allotted location, while the rest of the men began to set up camp upwind from the poisoned lake. Legolas had his bow and quiver with him, and set to work trying to show Annabelle the correct way to hold the slender, crafted weapon, also how to place an arrow on it ready to spring to life. She pretended to be interested.

"Now for your first target. Don't worry Aniel, I do not expect you to be perfect first time around. Aim for that tree, the nearest one to begin with. Now release the arrow how I showed you…….er, what in _Valinor_ was that?" he asked. "How did you get the arrow to go in that direction? I must say, you technique is certainly ….interesting."

She turned and gave him the dirtiest look possible. "You said you did not expect me to get it right the first time," she pointed out indignantly.

"Right," Legolas said. "Well, try again. No, don't point it at me!" Legolas sprang out of the way as Annabelle accidentally released an arrow straight at him. "Do I look like a dark creature coming out of the woods to take you?" he asked, looking to the heavens.

"Maybe you do," snarled Annabelle to herself. "Sorry," she said to him.

"Now concentrate. You will never pick it up otherwise."

After a half hour of careful and patient coaching, Legolas was able to see that she had made absolutely no progress at all. In fact, her technique was deteriorating, if such a thing was possible. He said to her thoughtfully, "Maybe you could merely hit the beastie over the head with the bow."

"That is not nice," Annabelle retorted, defeatedly. "Well, I did tell you I was not a warrior and that this was not my thing."

"Maybe we could try with the short sword…" As Annabelle's eyes widened in horror at the thought, Legolas capitulated. "Yes," he said, "your arms are so weak, even if I could teach you the technique, you would not be able to ward off a stronger attacker. And they would all be stronger. If an orc stood in front of you defenceless, with a target on its chest, I do not believe you would have the strength to force the sword to penetrate…"

"Tell it to me straight, why don't you."

"Well, I thought you would appreciate honesty."

"I don't even want to kill anything anyway, I told you that."

Legolas threw his hands up in the air. "I was just trying to return the favour and teach you something. Most people can pick up this kind of thing."

"Well, not me," Annabelle said softly. "I suppose elf maidens are strong and can fight and do battle, with skill and accuracy, and still look pretty afterwards?"

"Yes," the elf said simply. "They make very handy and skilled warriors."

That was too much for Annabelle to take. She already felt a little inferior around the being with the otherworldly charms and strength and light, so she said loudly, "Good for you, then!" and walked off in a strop.

Legolas was left standing there wondering what had just happened. If she was bad at handling weapons it was no one else's fault except her own. Shrugging, he went off for a short walk through the woods to cool down just a bit, not that she had really got to him. He was just annoyed, he told himself, that was all.

* * *

Later that night around camp, Legolas paused in his conversation with Aragorn to sniff the air. He did so, so abruptly, that several looked over in his direction. 

"What is it?" asked Aragorn.

Legolas relaxed, but just a little. "Bushfire," he said shortly.

The elven kind, perhaps more than any other, feared fire, because of the danger to their homes built within the branches of trees. When a fire of any kind threatened their wooded kingdoms, which luckily was rare, they did everything they could to prevent it from spreading. It was unusual for the terrain to be dry enough for such an event to cause real concern, but this year everyone had begun to note how very dry the underbrush was. It had just been a curiosity, up until now.

"It is probably nothing," noted Aragorn, trying to comfort his friend. "Can you tell which direction it is coming from?"

Legolas stood and sniffed the air tellingly for a few moments, then sat slowly again.

"South. I do not know how far away and the night is too dark to see smoke, but I am sure it will be fine."

The young elf's eyes still looked worried though. Aragorn reasoned, "Yes, there is sparse population south. We have just come from there. It is unlikely to spread, worry not."

"I suppose," said Legolas, somewhat downcast.

He was not having a very enjoyable evening and he did not know why. His eyes cut briefly over to where Annabelle was seated, at another of the fires with some new friends she had made. She usually joined him and Aragorn at their fire, but it seemed they had been forgotten. She sat with an officer called Poider, an ambitious, middle-aged human who was a Captain of the Gondorian army. He was not someone that Legolas would fraternise with, there was just something about the man, but he supposed humans were different and maybe Annabelle saw something in the chap that he couldn't.

Aragorn noticed where his friend's eyes had wandered and said, "Do not worry about things _mellon_. In the morning we will be able to determine the story of this bushfire, and all will be well. Get some rest, eh?"

Aragorn decided to turn in for the night, rolling himself in his blanket and dropping off into slumber. But Legolas sat glumly staring at the fire, his keen sense of smell picking up a stronger smoke scent as time wore on. He kept glancing over at Annabelle, convincing himself he didn't care in the least who she spoke to.

At last he lay down, looking up at the stars. He heard her re-enter their camp area and lay down on her bedroll for the night. He pretended to be asleep until he heard her breathing become slow and regular, then eventually he dropped off himself.


	7. Natural Destruction

**A/N:** As promised, I've got a longer one for you. This is to say thanks that some people reviewed, it was really lovely to get that feedback!! Nothing kills a story faster than zero feedback lol. So I'll try to keep this going as long as I know that people are still liking it.**

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**Chapter 7 – Natural Destruction**

_Annabelle realised that she must have burnt the eggs. They smelt just horrible. She started coughing and spluttering, unable to get any breath into her. Eggs were not to be wasted and she would be in trouble now. Gazing down at the black pan, she wondered what her mother would say, then she doubled over as smoke, so much smoke, washed over her and she gasped for air…_

Suddenly she jolted awake, only to see Legolas crouching over her, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay," he said, shaking her gently. "It is time to get up."

Groggily, Annabelle opened her eyes wider and realised it hadn't all been a dream. There was a white, hazy smoke everywhere. It was very much like a fog. The sky was completely white and many of the men were wearing scarves over their faces to ease breathing. Legolas handed her a strip of material and gladly she tied it around her nose and mouth. It filtered out some of the smoke, but not the acrid burnt odour. Everything was going to smell now for days.

"Are we in danger?" she asked Legolas as she stood with him.

"No, the fire is far south."

"But that is impossible! All the smoke, there is too much of it."

"This fire seems to be very large," he said matter-of-factly.

"South…?" she reiterated. She suddenly felt very unsteady on her legs, and Legolas reached out to grab her and settled her back down on her blanket.

"It will be okay, Ani, really. I am sure your home is perfectly safe." He tried to nod his assurance.

"But you can't know that! Legolas, what about my family, my home….I must go back there to make sure they are okay."

"And what could you do, _meleth_? I don't mean to sound harsh, but it would not make any difference to affairs if you were there or not. And besides," he gestured south, "I do not think you would even be able to get though."

"But Legolas, it's my _family_." Her eyes were a little wide with fear. In truth, she felt like crying right there and she suddenly wondered what she was even doing out here in foreign lands, riding around with complete strangers. It had been a mistake to come.

Sensing her inner turmoil, Legolas knelt on his knees and reached out to take her in his arms. She didn't stop him. As he held her, she began to feel ever so slightly better, but she was still afraid. A bush fire of great size, once going, was almost impossible to control or extinguish. It raged where it wanted and showed no discrimination or mercy. She shuddered. Maybe it was better she wasn't there, she thought guiltily. All she could do was hope and pray that not too many were affected, or if so, that they were able to escape their burning homes or towns to get to safety.

Legolas felt her shudder and held her tighter. He understood how she felt. Bushfire of this size, or any size, was a terrible thing and potentially catastrophic. It did not occur often but when it did it affected everything in its path. But rather than worry about the Gondorians, there was just the one Gondorian he was particularly worried about for now. He pulled back when he felt she had calmed herself more and looked at her.

"We will pray to the _Valar _that all will be okay. And…" he hesitated, getting Annabelle's attention with his uncertainty. "I wish to apologise too for what happened yesterday, Aniel, our little argument."

"No, it is forgotten," she said quickly, for she did not wish to be reminded of how she felt when he had become so annoyed with her.

"But I was unfair to you. I expected far too much of you in something you have no interest with. I thought about it and realised… I was acting like an oaf."

"An oaf? No, never Legolas, not you!"

"I think I was."

They stared at each other for a timeless moment before Legolas shook himself back into the present. He reached over to adjust the makeshift scarf tied over the lower part of her face. "You look like a child in that," he joked to her. He himself didn't need to wear one, obviously smoke didn't overcome elves like it could do humans.

"Can you stand now? We must ride soon for cleaner air, and not to mention cleaner water," he gestured behind him towards the sick lake. "I will have someone saddle Bluestar and bring her over for you."

"Okay….and Legolas?"

"What?"

"Thanks." She reached out and let her hand just brush his. Then she started to pack up her stuff ready to ride.

* * *

Legolas and Aragorn rode together through the eerie white air, the sunlight falling a strange apricot colour on the ground, and the sun itself a dim orange ball struggling to lift itself into the sky. They rode silently at first, a tension evident in the air, then at last, hesitantly, Aragorn spoke.

"Do you suppose it is _they_ who have caused this fire?"

The tightening of Legolas' jaw seemed answer enough. He said, dryly, "It would be a great coincidence wouldn't it, if this fire just happened to occur of itself, after what has already happened? Their little messages are starting to really annoy me."

"I find it hard to believe that one of your own kind would resort to this type of destruction, especially _fire_." The man shook his head.

"I know what you mean, _Estel_. You were brought up amongst my kind and you understand how we think. But the elven we are dealing with now, if it is They Who Had Been Banished, well, they are a different kettle of fish altogether." Legolas neglected to use their real name, falling back instead on the general term used to describe the tribe of elven, the Avari race, who had been banished.

With a quick, ominous exchange of glances, the two riders gladly settled into silence once more, each lost in their own worrisome, somewhat gloomy, thoughts.

As the day wore on, the wind shifted slightly and the smoke ceased choking the northern lands as much as it had. Though it remained an ever-present omen hanging over them all.

When they had departed that morning, Aragorn had despatched six of his men south to investigate the size and number of blazes as well as any damage they might be able to find. They were to report back to Minas Tirith where the rest of them were now headed.

The pace of the main party was still slow going since they did not want their horses out of breath in these thick, smoky conditions; that would be too cruel, despite the worries now hanging over them and their desire to get to Rivendell as soon as possible. Taking advantage of this slower pace, Captain Nomtenal rode alongside Annabelle to keep her company.

He had invited her to sit at his fire the night before, and to his surprise she had agreed. Normally she spent all of her time with the two royal persons in their party, especially that of the strange royal elf. But Captain Nomtenal had grabbed the opportunity to make polite conversation with her last night. Now, he realised, whilst Aragorn and Legolas were busy discussing the latest development of the bushfires, he could take the chance to get to know the slight country girl a bit better.

"Poider….I mean, Captain," Annabelle acknowledged, as he rode up beside her. "How are you today? Is the smoke bothering you?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he said to her easily, a large smile plastered on his face. "No, I believe I'm doing okay. Are you?"

"I think I am fine, with this scarf on, but I worry about Bluestar, poor girl," Annabelle patted the sleek neck of her mare.

"Yes," acknowledged Nomtenal, "it's hardest on the animals. But at least we are moving further away from the smoke now, and the wind has changed since midday. It is still most unpleasant though."

Captain Nomtenal seemed like a father-type figure to Annabelle. He had shoulder length brown hair that was going grey at the front and sides, brown eyes beneath bushy eye-brows that were also starting to grey, and pock-marked skin, a result of a skin problem in his youth. He still retained some of the handsomeness that must have been very apparent when he was younger.

Annabelle found herself quietly respecting the older gentleman for his strength and his command over the other men. She had noticed the night before how the younger surveyors on the team had deferred to him, noticed the way they had looked at him and the tone they used when speaking around him. She felt very comfortable riding alongside him now that they had been introduced. Although she had disliked fighting with Legolas the day before, it had given her the chance to meet this Captain of Minas Tirith, a person who she would not normally get a chance to see from afar, let alone up close and in person.

"It's bad luck, isn't it, that a fire such as this has begun, and in such dry weather," she said by way of conversation.

"It is a terrible thing," he agreed equably. "Though I think _not_ an accident, my Lady."

Annabelle was surprised. "Really, not an accident? But then who would do this to the land, to threaten the towns? Surely not someone from these parts."

"Aye," he agreed. "It must be a stranger to our land."

Annabelle did not notice, but Poider cast a quick glance forward in the direction of Legolas upon Arod. He continued, "As a matter of fact, evidence of strangers has been sighted in South Gondor of late, by the very men in this team. Quite unfriendly they were too," he said, remembering the arrows that were fired at them, "although we could not see who they were."

"Really?" asked Annabelle, turning slightly cold. "Strangers? I hope they are not dangerous. Where could they be from?" she wondered. Just then, she again recalled the encounter she had had back in town. The dark elf could certainly be classed as a stranger. And not only would Legolas refuse to speak of it, but on top of that Aragorn had made such a big fuss over it. She wondered if it could somehow be tied in. Turning earnestly in her saddle she asked the Captain about it.

His eyes narrowed and he did not say anything at first. Then he said, "I think I must have heard you wrong. _What _did you just ask me, dear girl?"

"Would it have anything to do with the other elf, the one I saw back at Wickerwood?"

Slowly Poider let out a hissing breath. Eventually he said, "So _that_ is what happened is it? Now it all makes sense, the lack of tracks, the strangely elegant arrows…."

"What?" she asked.

"Oh. I suppose no one would tell you these things. I, and some men of mine, were attacked just days before…the elf…brought you to our camp. We thought it was wild men of some skill, since orcs leave such obvious trails. I never in a million years could have thought…." He trailed off again, his eyes going distant with thought. Annabelle noticed such a transformation in his face, such a grim twist to his mouth, she was compelled to ask him why.

He seemed a little flustered in answering. "Well…I…it is an, er, enemy that I would not have expected." He seemed loath to say more to her all of a sudden.

"But the fires," pursued Annabelle, "do you think that they lit them on purpose, these strangers?"

"Do I _think_ that?" asked Poider, a strange gleam in his eye. Once again, he cast a glance towards Legolas' back where he rode up ahead. He shook his head distastefully. "I think we could probably count on it!" he breathed. "There are some strange happenings afoot, so strange it seems, that a Captain of the Gondorian Army is left in the dark."

"Oh." She could think of nothing to say to that.

The Captain quickly glanced at her and smiled. "Do not worry about it, my dear. We are all seasoned fighters here. And strategists. We will get to the bottom of this once we arrive at the White City." And under his breath he added, "You can count on it."


	8. A Refreshing Swim

**Chapter 8 - A Refreshing Swim**

That evening, all in the camp were getting mightily tied of the smell of burning, tired of the new soreness in their eyes, and some of them had developed a dry cough in defence to the intrusive smoke that clogged nose and throat. Annabelle was not even hungry that evening, which was unusual for her. She felt too ill altogether. And to make everything worse, they had not travelled far that day, restricted to taking it easy for their horses sake. Though it left them rested for a fast ride on the morrow, probably their last day before they reached Minas Tirith, even so nobody was in particularly good spirits that evening, and no one felt like hunting either for fresh meat. Except Legolas, of course.

Legolas seemed wholly unaffected by the acrid haze. He had not coughed or showed any sign of distress all day. Walking around camp, he also seemed fresh as a daisy with skin looking clean and his elven clothing seemingly smoke and grime proofed. After such an easy ride he also seemed to have energy left to burn, whilst all others setting up camp were grumpy, grimy and out of sorts. Annabelle was having trouble undoing the biggest buckle on Bluestar's saddle, and was quietly tugging on it and swearing under her breath when Legolas sidled up beside her.

"Would you like a hand?" he offered good-naturedly. Annabelle jumped.

"Gosh, you're quiet. You gave me a fright."

"I am sorry. Here, you are tugging at it all wrong." He stilled her hands with his own, making a slight '_tsk_' noise in his throat. "Gently does it, see, not so impatient Aniel, and it comes right off."

His hands gently but firmly guided hers, and she stood there with him behind her, arms reaching around her, and let him deftly make short work of the saddle buckles. She sighed with relief. He came around her then and lifted the saddle all the way off and placed it on the branch of a tree. Strangely, her hands were shaking ever so slightly after his help. She smiled her thank you to him, feeling too weary to speak.

"You are quite dirty," he pointed out, as if noticing for the first time.

"Yes, I feel like crap."

He hooted at her description of herself. Slyly he said, "You know, the Anduin is just through those trees. It looks a nice spot to swim in." Annabelle looked over to where he pointed, noticing many of the men stripping off most of their clothes and diving through the trees.

"I think I could do with a swim, quite honestly," she answered, her smile crooked.

"Well, come on then, what are you waiting for?" the elf said, mischievously. He began to run towards the water, looking back for her to follow. Clearly he was intending to take a dip himself.

For the briefest moment, Annabelle wondered if such a thing was proper for her to do, considering the company. She gave a comforting word to Bluestar, patting her on the rump to let her know she could wander off to graze. She began racing after the other dirty, sooted men, yipping out loud as she went. Where her ladylike manner had evaporated too she couldn't tell, but if she could get clean and refreshed, then propriety really wasn't on the top of her list in that moment.

The water was delicious and twenty or so bobbing heads couldn't be wrong. The men were all splashing each other wildly and bombing into a deep spot from the river's edge, Aragorn amongst them. She actually fancied he had been the first to bomb. But Legolas refrained from that and swam close by to her so he could chat. They hadn't spoken much all day.

While Annabelle had chosen to swim with her tunic on, having a spare one in her bag, she had at least removed her riding trousers behind the cover of a large tree. Strangely, this had not gone unnoticed by Legolas. When she came out from behind the tree, she had fancied Legolas taking a double, then a tripple take of her, but his smile had reassured her, and her tunic did reach half way down her thighs. That was modest enough for her, considering everything else. He had then given her a hand into the water all ladylike, which she had blushed at, but once she was in, had proceeded to tug her under up to her neck. Splashing him had no effect at all, he simply kept laughing at her no matter what she did.

Finally he seemed like he was going to be well behaved for a bit, and they settled down wading together, floating further out but not too far to be caught in the Anduin's strong current.

"This is so nice," said Annabelle, sighing.

"You have little smudges on your face," said Legolas. He swam closer and tried to wipe them off for her. Satisfied, he swam away again, diving under briefly so that his long, blonde tresses became completely soaked. Like the other men, he wore scant little, and his chest was bare altogether.

"Ah, if only the wind would just blow _that way_," the girl said indicating.

"Smoke really does affect humans, doesn't it?" said Legolas.

"Well, yes!" she laughed. "It's difficult to put up with it all of the day long." Her nose wrinkled.

"I was thinking…." He said, not revealing more. Bobbing closer to her now, she stared at the little drop of water hanging from his nose and tried not to smirk.

She splashed him eventually to try to remove the drop, but instead got new drops hanging precariously from his eyelashes. "You were thinking….?" She prompted.

"Your water trick," said Legolas.

"Hmm, what about it?"

"Does it work with, say….weather?"

"What on earth do you mean, Legolas?"

He gestured to the sky. "Does it work on water up there?"

Her face took on a focus of concentration. "Clouds? Rain you mean?"

He nodded.

"Well, I don't know. I don't usually do anything so grand. I have to hold the water when I program it."

"What about the emissaries? You said that you work with the emissaries of the _Valar_. They could touch it."

"What are you getting at?"

"Think Aniel," he said seriously. "Water means rain. What does rain do? _Puts out fire!_"

Her mouth formed a perfect O shape and she gaped at him. "Well?" he implored. "Can you do it?"

"Legolas, that is a _big _ask," she said, not wanting to put him off entirely. She wasn't sure such a thing could be done, but then again, she had never tried.

"Some wild tribes dance to produce rain," pointed out Legolas. "Surely they do it with a technique. There is a way, I know it!"

"You're very passionate Legolas, but I am not sure."

"We will do it after we've swam. You and I, Aniel. I am positive there is a way to make the _Valar_ make it rain."

The light in his eyes made it clear that his mind was made up, and who was Annabelle to argue? It was true that wild tribes of men did perform rain ceremonies, surely that could not be purely superstition. A wizard of some kind could have instilled it into the tribe at one time. Every tribe had a shaman. How could she know if it could be done or not if she never tried?

"Okay Legolas, we'll try," she said to him.

"I know it will work. Together, we will make it work." Happy now with that, he surprised her with a swift explosion of splashes that was designed to make her splutter, cough and squeal in indignation. It worked. It seemed he was good at getting his own way, this royal elf prince.

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**A/N: I took so long to update this due to receiving no reviews last time. So if you guys want more...please let me know and review, it makes all the difference! **


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